


This Is Gotham

by Oras



Category: DCU, Young Justice, Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Police, M/M, References to Drugs, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2018-09-13 04:52:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9107443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oras/pseuds/Oras
Summary: “You swindled his keys, didn’t you?”“Yup.”“Wipe that smirk off your face, Allen.”Or the one in which Bart is a cunning con-artist, fooling everyone to earn his bread on the table and Jaime is an underpaid, overworked cop in need of a partner.





	1. The Case of Lux

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always welcome! This is my first fic in which I have mutiple chapters planned, so I'm really excited. I hope you enjoy!

There’s a new drug on the market and it’s killing people. For some reason that isn’t enough of a good reason to _not_ buy it. The main source is—of course—Gotham City, which is the reason why Jaime was transferred to this hellish pit. At first the GCPD tried to find the suppliers of the drug, but they have been hiding well. Or they were protected by crime lords, which was also a pain in the ass. All in all, Jaime didn’t know much about Gotham, so more often than not he was stuck trying to _understand_ the city.

Like understanding which crime lords there were and where their turfs were, or understanding that some neighbourhoods are best not to be close to during night-time, or his inability to understand that _every single cop_ in the GCPD ‘knows a guy.’ For some reason that was the most ominous one. Jaime often wondered exactly who the other cops knew to have so much information. But that thought would always quickly derail, because he didn’t like to die whilst trying to find out. 

Curiosity killed the cop, right?

Or rather crooked cops kill cops, but who cares about the details. 

Even though the trail went cold and he didn’t find any clues whatsoever, he did manage to do the one thing he was good at; Saving civilians on the streets from lowlife thugs. Which was exactly what went down next.

Jaime was walking around Grant Park when he heard screams and yells. He ran towards the sound and was met with three bulky men trying to hurt and rob a teen. One of the men had a steel pipe in his hand and was about to struck the boy with it when Jaime grabbed his gun and took the safety off.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Jaime warned. The men stopped their movements, froze for a second, and turned around. “Put the pipe down and let the kid go.”

The man with the steel pipe slowly put the pipe on the ground and then moved back up with his hands in the air. “We don’t want problems officer, just teaching the kid a lesson.”

“You can tell that at the GCPD, I’m taking you i— “ 

One of the three men tackled Jaime and his gun fell to the ground. The other two quickly sprinted away and the third one ran into an alley, quickly disappearing like rats. Jaime grabbed his walkie-talkie and quickly told the others what had happened and which direction the men fled in. He couldn’t go after them; his priority was the kid.

“Hey, are you okay?” Jaime asked as he stood up and walked over to the kid. From up close he looked older, eighteen or nineteen maybe? “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. Thanks,” the kid brushed him off.

Now that Jaime had a better look on him he could see messy brown hair and green eyes, which was quite unusual to see for Jaime. He was bleeding from his nose and what looked like the temples of his head, seemed to have injured his left leg and according to his difficulty with breathing, he could have bruised or broken ribs. 

“We need to get you to an hospital,” Jaime tried, but the kid interrupted him.

“Dun’ave n-isjurance,” he mumbled, pulling himself off. He groaned as he tried to put his weight on his left leg. 

“Come again?” He helped the kid up, but the kid pushed him off, clearly didn’t like to be invaded in his bubble. “I didn’t quite get that.”

“I don’t have an insurance, officer,” the kid said more clearly now, though it felt like he threw a bucket of acid at Jaime. “So, no. I will not go to a hospital.”

Jaime sighed and massaged his forehead. ‘You might have a concussion, kid. Maybe broken ribs. You’ve got to check that out.”

But the kid only scoffed. “It’s Gotham. I can find a guy.”

“Dr. Thompkins is not too far from here, I can bring you?” He offered instead, but the kid looked like Jaime had just tried to raise a gun on him. Speaking of guns, he really needed to grab that thing before someone got it. 

“And let half the Bowery know I’m buddy-buddy with a cop? Do you want me dead?”

“Dios mío, ese…. Then what do you want me to do? I can’t just leave you out here, you can barely walk!”

“I’ll grab a cab—Stop touching me for fuck’s sake!” The kid almost growled. “That shit is gonna get you killed here, you know that?”

Jaime let go of his arm and stepped back with his hands in the air. “Sorry, just trying to help. I didn’t catch your name, I’m officer Reyes…”

The kid sighed and halted his movements. He looked over to the cop and rolled his eyes. “Bart Allen.”

“Okay, Bart, do you know why those guys were after you?”

Bart shrugged and took a step, hissing when it hurt too much. He deliberately took another, but his ankle gave in and he almost fell, but managed to put his weight back on his right leg. “This is Gotham,” was his only reason. “I think they stole my wallet…” he said as he looked back at Jaime, a little more concerned now.

“Do you want to press charges?”

Bart scoffed and shook his head. “Only if I had a death wish. You’re not from here, are you?”

“…Got transferred,” Jaime replied curtly, folding his arms together.

“Because of Lux, right? The drug?” Bart asked, wiping the blood from his nose away with his sleeve. “It’s been all over the news. The casualties, I mean. And everyone knows the GCPD is understaffed. It would make sense why you’re here.”

Jaime nodded. “Yeah, because of Lux.” He looked over to the busy street, just past the ally they were at and sighed. His conscience was yelling at him to at least do something for the kid, since he was refusing his every offer to help. He grabbed his own wallet and held a fifty-dollar bill out. “Take it.”

Bart looked at the bill and then back at the officer. “I’m not a charity case,” he frowned. 

“I know you’re not. But either way, you need to go home and you won’t get far with that leg of yours. So, take it.” 

It looked like Bart was still going to refuse it, but what inner-monologue was playing inside of his head, it seemed to have changed his mind. He took the bill and gave a small and prompt ‘thank you’ before looking back to the busy street. When Jaime offered to try and help him to the street, Bart refused and said he could do it on his own. He got a cab and soon left.

Jaime sighed and walked back to where he parked the police car. He got in and went back to the GCPD headquarters. 

*

At the GCPD, Jaime told some of his colleagues what had happened, which caused for most of them to simply start to uncontrollably laugh. Apparently—according to his colleagues—Jaime got conned, and that was just ludicrous to Jaime.

“No, no way, hermano. I saw the injuries, no one would do that for such a low amount of cash.”

“That’s cuz he ain’t never been hurt, brother,” a dark skinned man named Murphy laughed. Murphy was the first one the welcome him at the GCPD and about the only one with whom he can really talk. “Listen, let me break it down for ya. A young man with a baby face shows up, right? He’s being attacked by a gang of ‘thugs’ and you go rescue him. He is then injured and the men escape… Still following me? Okay, he refuses all help, says he ain’t got an insurance and you feel bad for him, right? So you pay him. And then another buddy of his is in the cab and they get away,” Murphy explains, folding his arms and shaking his head.

“But… the wounds..”

“Fake blood and good acting, buddy,” one of his other colleagues mentions. “It happens all the time. Quite bold to do to a copper, though.”

“But… he wouldn’t be so dumb to give me his name, right?” Jaime asked, scrunching one eyebrow up.

“Depends. Some of ‘em are just that good. You know? That even if you got ther name, you still couldn’t get ‘em in jail?” Another copper asked to the group—his name was Harold, has been in the force for thirty years now. Some of them nodded and others sighed, understanding the struggle. “These people are different, these are actual con-artists. Make a game outta it, you know?”

“The hustles, It’s like their business card. Tells us who they are and what they’re capable of,” a female colleague explains, her name was Jess, Jaime thought. “What’s his name?”

“Bart Allen.”

And immediately they started roaring again in laughter, some of them wiping away a single tear while shaking their head in disbelief. 

“What? He that bad at conning that you’re all just laughing?” Jaime mumbled, clearly feeling self-conscious.

“Nah brother, we get why you got conned now,” Murphy grins. “Allen likes to mess with coppers, but he ain’t ever done something to harm us. Mostly helps us with cases too.”

“If you pay him well enough,” Jess added. “He likes to give newbie coppers a taste of Gotham. Also easy to find behind these bars at the GCPD, but he does that deliberately. In the meantime he swindles about every record he needs for his own cases.”

“Mierda,” Jaime cussed. “All of that was basically him making acquaintances with me?”

“That sound’ about right,” Harold cackled. “You’ll probably see more of ‘im,” he said as he gave Jaime a firm pat on his shoulder and walked back to his own desk.

All the other coppers left as well, except for Murphy and Jess. They kind of had a knowing look on their faces, like they knew how it was to be conned in Gotham.

“You’ll learn, Jaime. Gotham isn’t easy to get the hang of,” she comforted, rubbing his shoulder.

“Yeah, ain’t nobody here that hasn’t been hustled once. No need to feel bad,” Murphy added. 

Jaime nodded. He still felt stupid, it all looked so _real_. He would never have expected that it was all a con. Especially not by that kid, how old was he even? He sighed and smiled to his two colleagues, letting them at least know he was okay. He walked back to his desk and went back to work, he still had a trail he needed to follow and clues he needed to find.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here I told myself I'd only post once a week... Oh well, new chapter, I hope you enjoy!

“Now listen up, this trail ‘s been going cold and we’re gonna have to spin that ‘round and fast,” Harold chided to the group of officers that crowded around him. “Luckily for us, Murphy’s ‘guy’ ‘s been a real save and got us a picture of a Lux trade.”

All around people started whistling and clapping for Murphy, again making Jaime wonder where the hell all these ‘guys’ came from. And how come Murphy was in on this ‘guy’ thing too? 

“Reyes, I need you to identify these people and find the girl who bought Lux before she ends up killing herself,” Harold ordered and handed a yellow map to him.

Jaime took the map and briefly thought how bad of an idea it is to let the transferred guy do the identifying in Gotham. Exactly how understaffed were they at the GCPD? Do these cops quit or are they smart enough to run off? 

_They probably die, this is Gotham after all…._

Happy thoughts, Jaime, happy thoughts. _Estás en Gotham también_.

He shook his head and walked over to his desk. Probably judging every single life choice he ever made, but mostly focusing on the task ahead. One thing that people forget was that time costs lives. How insignificant a small task may be, time is always crucial and the longer it takes, the bigger the chance is that someone would end up dead. Which is why Jaime is often more serious when he’s at the GCPD headquarters. 

_Less jokes, more working._

He fumbled with the little rope which kept it shut and then decided to cut it, because this was too much of a hassle and screw the one who thought that this was a good idea. He threw the scissors back where he found them and opened the map, dumping its contents on his desk, and looked at _one single picture_.

“What the…. All of that, for this?” He looked at the single picture and tried to look at the back of it, upside-down, anything to reveal some kind of secret message.

“Brother... kid—Jaime!” Murphy snapped. “Let it go man, there ain’t nothin’ else.”

“…This is it? This is what the ruckus was about?” Jaime whispered with a clear frown. Like a hushed yelling, almost.

“Harold loves to be dramatic up in here, ya just gotta roll with it, man,” Murphy explained. 

“And whose idea was it to let the transferred one do the identifying?” 

“Ain’t mine, so don’t you point that finger at me.”

Jaime sighed and slumped back into his seat. How the hell was he supposed to do this? He didn’t even have access to the computer system yet. He’d have to ask someone else to do it for him, but then Harold would get pissed at him for shoving his work onto someone else…

“Well, let’s not get all gloomy, we haven’t even looked at the damn picture yet,” Murphy laughed and took the picture from Jaime’s hands. “To be fair, I hadn’t even seen it before Harold snatched it from my hands, old man’s like a Jedi…. Or a ninja, comin’ outta nowhere,” Murphy explained, making various weird movements to accentuate what he meant. 

“Ese, stop,” Jaime said, looking the other way and holding Murphy by his wrists. “I’m going to get nightmares.”

Jaime took the picture back and laid it on his desk. He looked at the picture and recognised this as somewhere in Crime Alley, from when Murphy showed him around town. There was barely any lighting, just the orange from one streetlamp. On the picture was one man, tall, hooded, so his face was hidden. And there was a girl, whose face was obvious to see. She wore ripped fishnet stockings, a mini dress, so she might’ve been to a party? The man was handing the lady a plastic bag filled with a few pills.

Lux comes in many different forms, pills, fluids that have to be injected, powder, etcetera. There are also dupes that you could buy on the streets, which are probably just as harmful. The GCPD doesn’t quite know what happens when you take it, but it can see the damage it does. In some cases, you die from internal bleeding, or extreme dehydration from throwing up and sweating and God knows what more. Other cases are a bit weirder as it attacks the brain? Jaime didn’t really understand what went on, but there was one particular part it attacked in the brain making the user of the drug hallucinate. The question is, what? In a few rare cases, some people got in accidents or killed themselves when they took this drug. 

In the orange light you could see some smoke. Jaime trailed it and found a man smoking in the background, looking at the drug trade. It was a face that he had seen just yesterday.

“That is…. Is that… Murphy?” Jaime asked as he pointed to the man in the background.

“Well, look at that… that’s Allen,” Murphy blinked. “Ain’t that our luck.”

“Luck? How am I going to find him again?” Jaime frowned.

Murphy laughed, and patted Jaime’s shoulder—which felt like he was dislocating it, but okay. He wiped away a tear that collected in his eye and kept giggling and smiling like an _idiota_. He loved this man, but sometimes he could slap him across the face for not getting his point across. 

“Well, officer Reyes,” he began, “Merry fuckin’ Christmas to you. He got himself arrested this mornin’ for bein’ a smartass against Perez. Ya can find him at his desk,” he laughed. 

Jaime got up from his chair, took the picture and ran towards the other side of the building in record time. He looked around until he found exactly what he was looking for. He walked over when Perez tried to stop him, saying he was busy with an interrogation, but Jaime literally shut him up by putting his hand over Perez’s face and pushing him to the side. 

“Allen.”

“Officer Reyes,” Bart smiled, looking almost delighted. “I hope you’re not mad from yesterday,” he cooed. 

“I’m not. Is this you on the picture?” Jaime asked, showing the picture to Bart.

He tried to move his hands, but he was cuffed to Perez’s desk, so instead he leaned forward and inspected it. He hummed for a bit and then leaned back to his seat and put up that sickly-sweet smile of his again. “I’m not sure, why is it important?” He asked, feigning innocence. 

Jess did say that he’d only help if you payed him… Like hell Jaime was going down that road again. 

_Less jokes, more working._

“You can either be a smartass and risk me giving you an even bigger fine on top of Perez’s, or you can tell me if this was you,” Jaime warned. 

Bart’s smile grew and he looked Jaime over. “I think I can manage a fine, officer. You’ll have to be a bit more creative,” he winked.

Jaime turned to Perez. “What’s he in for?”

“Driving without a license,” Perez answered, rubbing his nose. 

_Gotcha kiddo. I didn't want to do this, but you've left me no choice._

“So, we have driving without a license, resisting arrest, refusing to co-operate with not one, but two police investigations, unacceptable behaviour to a police officer—not to mention lying against one and letting your henchmen attack me—and probably so much more if I grab your file. Pretty sure that’s going to be an even bigger fine and possible jailtime, Allen,” Jaime smiled back. “And don’t forget I could just lie, give you an even bigger mess and I’d get away with it too.”

Bart frowned and shook his head, disbelief on his face. “You wouldn’t do that, you’re not like them.”

“Try me, this is Gotham after all.”

Bart scoffed and looked towards the picture in Jaime’s hand. “Not even been here a month and it already changed you, huh?” He looked back up and glared at Jaime, disappointment clearly in his eyes. “Okay, I’ll bite. That’s me, happy?”  
“What were you doing there?”

“Smoking, that’s literally it.”

“Did you know that this man was selling Lux to this girl?”

“…No. I knew he was selling drugs, but I didn’t think it’d be Lux. It’s not easy to get, nor to sell,” Bart explained.

“Where were you at this time?”

“Crime Alley, and before you ask; it was probably 2 a.m.,” Bart said, rolling his eyes. 

“Do you recognise one of these people?” Jaime asked, showing him the picture again. 

Bart sighed and his glare softened. “I don’t know the dude, okay? But I’ve seen the girl before,” he started. “A coffee shop in the Bowery, she’s usually there in the mornings.”

“Do you know the name?” Jaime asked, grabbing a notebook and a pen and writing everything down. 

“No.” Jaime glared at him, obviously not believing him, but Bart quickly followed, “I really don’t! I just walk past it.”

Jaime finished his notes and gave the pen back at Perez. “I’ll handle this, okay?” Perez nodded and walked off, leaving the two of them alone. “You know a lot about the streets, don’t you?”

“Enough to know about the newbie cop in Gotham who has difficulty staying alive,” Bart shrugged. 

“Let’s make a deal then,” Jaime said, folding his arms. “I’ll make sure you won’t get a fine and won’t face jailtime, if you help me solve the case.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’d help the GCPD, how can I be of service, officer Reyes?” 

“We need to find that girl as quickly as possible,” Jaime spoke, tapping on the girl in the picture. “Or she’ll end up dead.”

Bart nodded, understanding the situation. 

Jaime tore of his note from the notebook and folded it in half. He put the picture in the folded piece of paper and was about to grab the keys of Bart’s cuffs when he couldn’t feel them on him. He thought that he might’ve put them on his own desk, but soon he could hear the jingling of keys and a swinging movement in the corners of his eyes. He turned around to see Bart freed; in one hand holding the keys and in the other holding the cuffs. Jaime patted himself down once more to be sure he hadn’t put his keys in his pockets, but soon the realisation hit him.

“How did you do—Is that my watch?”

“Yup,” Bart smirked. “It’ll be a pleasure to do business with you, Jaime.”

“Wait—How did you know…”

Bart chuckled and gave him a sly wink. “You could always interrogate me, officer,” he said as he stood up and handed Jaime his keys. “I’ll keep this as payment, scavenger’s rights,” he said, showing off his wrist with Jaime’s watch.

“Wait wha—“

“I’ll just quickly go to the bathroom, won’t take too long. Pinky promise,” Bart cooed, as he walked into the opposite way of the bathrooms.

And then it deemed upon him that men like Bart Allen weren’t easily caught, if caught at all. They’d let themselves get caught. This man had a goal in mind, had cases of his own… And he let himself get caught intentionally for the sole purpose of infiltrating the GCPD archives.

“Mierda—!” He whispered, feeling rather alarmed and already running in the direction the younger man walked in. 

This was going to be one hell of an interesting partnership.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hated it, loved it, or some general tips? Everything's welcome!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is mostly plot and some clashes and bonding time between our favourite pair, but let me know if you liked it! I hope you enjoy!

Exactly what did Bart Allen need from those archives? Jaime had been thinking about it the entire trip to the coffee shop and he still has no clue. He tried asking Bart, but he’d change the subject in a flash. Jaime tried looking up the files Bart looked at, but the kid was so fast, he had no idea which ones he had a glimpse at—or took, you never know. It was gnawing at him, he needed answers. But that was for a different time, right now he needed to find that girl. And the first step of finding her is visiting this dump…

Damn, that’s one sad looking building.

It looked like it was breaking at least thirty different health and safety regulations, and that was from the _outside_ of the building. 

“That’s the Bowery for ye,” Bart sighed. “It’s not gonna look prettier from the inside,” he warned as he pushed the heavy door open and stepped in. Immediately a wave of smoke punched them both in the face and left Jaime looking like a fish out of water. “You don’t have asthma, right?” he asked, a bit of concern showing on his face.

“’m fine,” Jaime coughed. “Just wasn’t prepared for that.”

Bart shook his head and walked to the counter where he started to talk to the old lady behind it. He’d glance a few times back to Jaime and then continue talking to the woman while Jaime had to teach himself how to breathe through the thick cloud of smoke. After regaining some of his posture he walked to the same spot Bart was standing.

“—sure you haven’t seen her? She’s here around eleven o’clock, almost every day,” Bart frowned.

“Hasn’t been here in a few days, I heard she’s been busy with a lot of things,” the lady explained.

“We need to find her and fast, do you have any idea where she could be, miss?” Jaime asked.

The woman folded her arms and looked up, seemingly in thought. “Well, there might be a few places. Her parents live in Diamond district and she works at a place called the Iceberg Lounge,” she cautioned. “Not much I can tell, that’s about it.”

“That’s quite enough, is there someone else here that might know more?” 

“Ask around, ‘bout everyone here talks to everyone. They might know more,” she hummed and then proceeded cleaning the little white cups and putting them back on the shelves behind her.

Bart rubbed his neck, seemingly displeased with the news they got. Jaime raised an eyebrow, he didn’t get why Bart would look that way, and it seemed like Bart noticed that. “You have no idea what the Iceberg Lounge is, do you?” 

“I’m guessing it’s some sort of club—“

Bart almost facepalmed himself right then and there and glared up at Jaime. He grabbed him by his sleeve and moved them to a corner at the coffee shop. “It’s Penguin’s turf, you know who that is?”

Oh boy, did he. Penguin was one of the crime lords in Gotham City and he sure as hell wasn’t the nicest. Penguin had seen his fair share of Arkham in his days and was now one of the rulers of Gotham—as he liked to say himself. He didn’t show mercy to anyone who was in his way and he clearly wasn’t a guy one should mess with. People ended up dead, their bodies mangled in horrifying ways and all of that was done by Penguin. This man has been a pain in the ass since Gotham can remember and Jaime had gotten clear orders not to mess with any of these mafia wars, nor come close to their turfs. 

Which is bullshit if you’re a police officer, even if you’re a newbie. So, it was definitely the one thing Jaime ignored. Which was exactly what he was going to do again.

“Doesn’t matter if he’s a crime lord, if he’s the one making Lux then we need to take him down off his ice-throne, ese,” Jaime countered. 

“You know, that’s a really brave philosophy—and I admire that! I do! But you see… he doesn’t really like me. Few hustles and _bam_ , a bunch of guys suddenly want you dead, you feel me?” Bart nearly jeered.

For a moment he looked dumbstruck, not really getting what Bart was saying— _God, he talks fast_ —But then he understood what this meant for their case. Jaime had wanted to go to the club and see for himself if they could find the girl there, but it seems like they have to change it up. Since Bart might _die_ if they go to the lounge, they need to go to Diamond district and find her parents instead.

“Comprendido, we’ll go to Diamond district first. See if her parents know something,” Jaime decided. “Let’s go.”

“In a second, there’s someone I need to have a quick chat with,” Bart stammered, looking a bit nervous from his eyes. “Maybe talk with the others? Find something we could need?” he then suggested as he turned around and walked to the back of the bar. He opened a door and closed it behind him.

There were a few things Jaime could have done in that moment. He could’ve said no and prioritize their task ahead, he could’ve talked to the people in the shop and try to pry more information out of them, but what he did instead was walk towards that door and do something he wasn’t quite proud of, but something that needed to be done.

At least, that’s what he was telling himself. 

He stood next to the door and listened in to what was being said. Most of it was incoherent, they were either whispering or had a serious lisp that not even Jaime could understand. But then a booming voice could be heard, and then Bart’s voice clearly shined through.

_“You said that it’d be done in a week, Allen,”_ the hard voice boomed again. If they were trying to have a quiet conversation, it clearly wasn’t working.

_“I said I’d look at it, I never said I’d handle it—That’s what you made out of it,”_ Bart’s voice sounded. His was clearly softer, but it was still easy to hear from outside the door.

_“These people will come after us if—“_

_“Basically, what you’re telling me is to throw one for the team and get caught for you. Is that correct?”_ Bart’s voice sounded again, this time much harsher. Clearly, he was annoyed by this man.

And by the sound of it, someone’s after them… They might mean Jaime and the GCPD, but Jaime’s not after Bart. He just wants his help to clear the case. After this he’d let Bart go, so what are they talking about? If it isn’t the GCPD then maybe… Penguin? Or another group they were dealing with… What is even happening in there?

_“It’s your fault he’s after us anyway. But it’s simple, kill him before he kills you and be done with it.”_

It didn’t really come as a surprise that it might be Bart’s fault, Jaime had kind of predicted that Bart was a troublemaker. This could have to do something with the files Bart was looking at in the archives, but Jaime couldn’t be too sure. He didn’t know which files Bart had seen in the first place, he needed to see the camera footage to be sure that Bart hadn’t snatched anything either.

_“Sure, let me just do that. It’s not like he’s bigger than me, or stronger than me, or faster than me, or you know, smarter than me, nahh. No biggie, right?”_ Bart’s voice sassed. 

Jaime had heard enough. He didn’t want to get caught and then tortured to death, so he moved back to the counter and ordered a cup of coffee. Clearly, something big was about to go down and if Jaime didn’t find out what, bodies would soon turn up. This was exactly what he didn’t need right now. He needed to find this girl, not meddle with a hustler’s problems. Though if Jaime didn’t do anything, it would still be his fault for knowing what was going to happen and not doing anything to stop it. All he needed to know was the context of that conversation. He needed to help this poor idiota before he got himself killed too. 

Jaime had just finished his coffee and was just finished asking some more questions to the lady who had just helped them when Bart returned. Nothing seemed wrong, he even smiled at Jaime and gave a light ‘come on’ as he walked out through the entrance of the coffee shop. Jaime quickly paid and walked after him, back to his police car. They both stepped in the car and buckled their seatbelts—Jaime taking a quick glance to see if Bart had really done it—and then put his key into the ignition. Before he turned it, he looked over at Bart.

“Everything went okay there?” He asked to be sure, he needed to pry information out of him. Anything to defuse the upcoming murder scene as quickly as possible. “I heard some loud voices, pretty sure half the people heard.”

“Whad’dya hear?”

“Sorry?” Jaime asked, not understanding Bart’s slur.

“What did you hear,” he repeated, this time looking Jaime in the eye. His soft smile gone and replaced by a strange sort of hardness in his eyes. 

“The word ‘kill’ fell a few times,” Jaime replied dryly. “Listen, I don’t want to pry,” _lies_ , “but if someone is after you, then you know the GCPD can help you, right? _I_ could help you.”

Bart hummed, as if in thought, “you know officer… I think we don’t have time for this. Because as of right now a girl is about to take a dangerous drug and we still have to locate her before that happens,” he hinted, clearly done with the subject and the entire conversation. He copied about every word that Jaime had said just a few hours prior, which honestly felt like a really bratty thing to do if he wasn’t right. 

“Really? And here I thought I was going to my sister’s quinceanera,” Jaime sassed right back. Two could play this stupid game of his. He turned the key in the ignition and the car sprang to life. 

Bart snorted and shook his head, secretly giving Jaime the side-eye. “Just drive.”

And Jaime did.

*

Soon enough they were in Diamond district. They parked their car in front of the humongous gates in front of the mansion of the girl’s parents. The girl, Mary Reed, was a twenty-seven year old mom who worked at Iceberg Lounge. The fact that her parents live like this while the girl probably lives somewhere near Crime Ally perplexed Jaime. He just couldn’t fathom how some parents… stopped caring about their children’s wellbeing. It was also that same kind of people Jaime found easy to hate, because what kind of parent just gives up on their child. Even if they’re grown up?

That’s just something that could really boil his blood. His own parents wouldn’t do that to him and Jaime would never leave his sister, he just couldn’t understand some people who did that. Found it hard to forgive those people, even if it wasn’t his business.

They just walked past the gates and were in the middle of that path that led to the front door when Jaime stopped walking and Bart turned around, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“…You’re not gonna steal anything, right ese?” he asked cautiously. 

Bart just blinked a few times, sighed and snapped his fingers. “And here I wanted to rob them blind. Ah, oh well, different time,” he mocked. “It’s not like a police officer just pulled up to their house and is about to give bad news. It’s not like I have a heart and manners, nah, nope, not at all.”

Jaime closed his eyes and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Okay, okay—I get it. I’m an ass,” he spoke over Bart’s voice. “Lo siento, okay? I’m just… on edge right now,” he tried, moving his hand from his nose to his neck.

“There are better ways to get rid of that, officer, I suggest you follow them.”

His voice sounded final. If not that, then maybe it was the glare he got or the back he saw when Bart resumed walking. Jaime sighed and shook his head, for a second he just looked at his feet and cursed at himself. Bart was supposed to be his partner, and they’d been working together for only a few hours and it felt like Jaime already screwed up and insulted his entire family tree. 

_Dishonour on you, dishonour on your family, dishonour on your cow._

He jogged to the door and it was already opened. A man in a black, formal uniform greeted them and let them through. A lady then guided them to the living room and Jaime tried not to get mesmerised by everything around him. This place was _huge._

They were met by two people who were standing there, Jaime was going to presume that these people were Mary’s parents.

“Mister and misses Reed?” Jaime asked, and they both nodded, nervous and a bit afraid of the news he was going to bring them. “We’re looking for your daughter, Mary Reed. We think her life might be in danger,” he explained.

Even though Bart stood next to him, he didn’t utter a word. Just kept looking at the parents and gave Jaime all the room he needed to speak. Which Jaime was really glad for even though he knew he probably didn’t deserve it all… Yikes, he needed to fix that.

“Oh no,” the father gasped. Jaime felt bad for him, he must be worried sic—“What did that whore do now?”

He said what now?

_Did I hear that right…?_

Bart seemed to be just as much in shock as Jaime, because next thing he knew he was looking at Jaime with widened eyes. 

“We don’t want anything to do with that selfish whore,” the mother spewed. “We have suffered enough from that wench. She is no daughter of mine!”

“We have no clue where the hell she is and frankly, we don’t care. So if that is all, officers, then I bid you goodbye,” the father spat at their faces.

And Jaime felt just so appalled, he went with it. He had no other idea of how to deal with it. Never in his life had he met people who were that awful. Who could say such things about their daughter and throw a police officer out of their house. Their daughter could die and they didn’t give a shit. 

“What a bunch of assholes,” Bart grunted, pulling Jaime at his arm back to the vehicle. “Unbelievable that people like them breathe the same air as we do.”

“Tell me about it…” Jaime exhaled. “Well, that was a complete flop. So we need to go to the Lounge then and—what?” 

“No, what we need to do is get some food and think this through, I’m pretty sure I already have an idea of where we need to go next.” He walked to the car and waited till Jaime unlocked it. He stepped in and buckled his seatbelt and waited for Jaime to do the same. Jaime put his key in the ignition, turned it and drove out of Diamond district.

*

They were eating at a shop named Bennies, a place that Bart recommended, and by god did it taste heavenly. And for such a low price too. Jaime was almost inhaling one of the burgers when Bart threw a fry at his face and laughed, throwing a napkin after it.

“it’s a burger, not water. Slow down,” he snorted. 

“If I die by suffocating on this, it was worth it,” he almost moaned, grabbing the napkin and cleaning half his face. “So, what’s your idea hermano?”

“We know that Mary Reed is a mom, so that means that there is a husband in the picture. Her file said that she was married to this dude named Charlie Barton—“

“I was actually talking about what to put on these fries…” He weakly shifted the small tray left and right, but then cleared his throat and wiped his face off again. “But keep going,” he coughed, trying to make it play it off normal.

“Nice try, you’re not living that one down,” Bart cheekily smiled, “anyway, if we can find Charlie Barton, then we can find Mary Reed. And if that doesn’t work, we look for their daughter. The file said she’s eight and that she’s enrolled in elementary school,” he continued to explain.

“So that’s why you went to the archives?” Jaime asked, kind of surprised that he didn’t have ulterior motives.

“Well, one of the reasons. I figured that if I didn’t want to end up in _jail_ , I’d look up some information about her. Of course I didn’t know who she was, so I stole a few files and happened to have the right one,” he explained, taking the fry he threw at Jaime’s face and eating it. “Oh, here by the way, have them back,” he chewed with his mouth full, putting a shoulder bag on the table that gave a loud _thump._

“How many did you take?” His voice had gone eight octaves higher and he was pretty sure he was panicking. How the hell had he not noticed this? “And when did you have the time to read it all,” he almost choked on his spit. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he slyly winked.

“You’re insane… How did the GCPD not notice so many files missing?”

“They don’t use these things. Everything’s on computers now, so lots of cops actually forget that these things exist. Which gives me the opportunity to—“

“You mean you do this all the time?”

He laughed and gave Jaime a sweet smile. He tucked his hair behind his ear and held his chin on his hand. ”No one stops me,” he grinned. And out of nowhere he was holding a tray filled with fries, just like Jaime had—wait a minute.

“Are those my fries, Allen?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, officer,” he winked again and then proceeded to look Jaime in the eye while biting a fry in half. “But I can share.”

“If?” Jaime asked, knowing that there would be a catch to it.

“If you buy the next round, I’m a growing boy after all.”

“How old are you even?” Jaime huffed, taking more money from his wallet and ordering a bigger portion of fries this time.

“Twenty-three.”

“Shut up, for real? I thought you were eighteen when we first met. Given that you were acting all scared and I felt really bad for you,” Jaime mumbled.

Bart snorted and nearly coughed up all the soda he was drinking, he grabbed a napkin and wiped of the table, all while giving Jaime a genuine smile. “Yeah, all part of the act, y’know? Looking all cute and scared and beaten up. Makes you look younger than you really are,” he explained. “But I’m twenty-three.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed it,” Jaime grins. He looked at the time and gave a heavy sigh. “It’s almost three o’clock, if we’re fast we can still find their daughter?”

Bart nodded, agreeing with him. If they found the kid, they’d automatically find one of the parents. Bart drank all the soda while Jaime asked if the fries could go in a to-go bag and soon they were in the car, driving towards the elementary school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hated it, loved it, or some general tips? Everything's welcome!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! It's been a while haha, I've been really busy with school and my internship, so I haven't really had the time to write. Before we start, I'd like to thank everyone for reading this and for the kudos I've received, I truly appreciate it! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

As Bart was munching contentedly on the fries, he’d pass one to Jaime every once in a while. It was completely fine, but it was gnawing at Jaime that he only knew him for about… a day now? He shouldn’t be that comfortable with this man, especially since he’s a con-artist. A good one too. And that conversation he overheard at the coffee shop was strange as well, there was definitely something up with that. 

Jaime was making a turn when Bart’s hand appeared again. He actually wanted to refuse, since he was driving, but those fries were _really good._ He opened his mouth defeatedly and kind of nibbled on the fry until it was all gone. It was at this moment that Bart couldn’t seem to shut up.

“Why did you want to become a copper?” he asked out of the blue, stuffing another few fries in his mouth.

“I—what?” He looked over to Bart for a second before his gaze turned back to the road. “Why are you asking?”

“We’re partners now, aren’t we? You said it yourself,” Bart explained. He took a napkin and wiped his fingers off with it. “’least you could tell me,” he shrugged.

Jaime already felt a headache coming on. Bart wasn’t _wrong_ , but he _sold_ information. Jaime wasn’t sure if he could be trusted, but by not telling him he’d risk Bart refusing to help with the case. He was sure the kid—man could get away with all his crimes easily… He could, couldn’t he? 

“Or not, whatever,” Bart huffed, clearly annoyed.

He wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel. 

He didn’t.

“I have a sister,” he sighed. “She’s fifteen. I was eleven when I first held her in my arms.” He slowed the car when he saw a red traffic light. “There were a lot of break-ins at the time… Some of them ended badly. Really bad I mean.” The traffic light turned green and Jaime started to drive again. “And before I knew it, it happened to us.”

“A break-in? Or one that ended…” he trailed off, not wanting to finish that sentence.

“A break-in. We were lucky… Our neighbours saw someone creeping around and called the police. Milagro was crying, so I took her with me to the kitchen. Both my parents were always exhausted, so I wanted to help out with taking care of her,” he explained. “At first nothing seemed wrong… and then suddenly there was a knife pointed at me.”

Bart turned to Jaime, looking fairly curious “Did you get hurt?”

“I wasn’t thinking about me at that time. The only thing I could think about was Milagro crying in my arms and wanting to keep her safe, so I turned around and tried to get away…”

“And?”

Jaime smiled, albeit almost painfully, “I got a few scars on my back for that one. But Milagro was safe and the police showed up soon after. I’m sure I gave my parents a heart attack for doing that stunt.”

“Jesus…” 

“No, Jaime.”

Bart snorted and threw a few fries at Jaime’s head. Jaime quickly ducked and turned his gaze back to the road, trying to hide his grin. He found it hilarious, to be honest. “So, how did you become a con-artist then?” He asked hesitantly, almost. It was only fair to hear his story as well.

“I’m surprised you haven’t read my file, officer,” he commented, raising an eyebrow.

“Haven’t had the time yet. Plus, a stranger stole half of all the files stored at the archives and I’m not registered in the computers yet,” he half-joked. 

Bart gasped and held his hand over his heart in mock-astonishment. “How awful, what kind of evil, absolutely handsome, punk would do such a thing?”

“Trust me, I’m still trying to find out,” Jaime cracked a smile, glancing over to Bart’s seat. “So?”

At first Bart was humming, seemingly in thought. He wasn’t sure if he was actually thinking or just stalling time; but either way it took a while before a reply came. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Bart lived in Gotham and conned people for a living, seemed bad to begin with.

“I was alone, had some bad people after me and decided to run to a place where they wouldn’t be able to find me,” Bart explained, the entire time looking out of the window. He shrugged and turned back to Jaime, “Weren’t much things I could do.”

“You’re not from Gotham?”

He stayed quiet for this one. Turned his gaze back to the window and looking content with ending the conversation right there. Jaime wanted to know more, but he was sure he wasn’t getting anything out of him. It was almost three-thirty o’clock, but he already felt drained. This case, his sudden partnership with a stranger and the fact that this is actually a race against time was giving him a terrible headache and an unhealthy anxiety boost. 

They just got to the elementary school and saw all the students leave the building. Jaime cursed inwardly, how the hell were they supposed to find the kid now? He didn’t even know how she looked like in the first place. At this point he kind of wanted to crawl in a hole and stay there, or maybe just give up on this case and go back to El Paso. Back to his home, family, friends… Back to seeing the sky really, this gloomy-Gotham-look was starting to wear him down.

Jaime was looking around, but Bart had disappeared. Just where the hell did he run off to? He was looking around, scanning the area, looking at the worried faces of the parents who came to pick up their children and the curious glances from said children.

_No Bart though…_

He walked over the schoolyard trying to look for a teacher at least when he heard Bart’s voice. He quickly followed it to the swing sets and saw a girl swinging slowly.

“—No way, really?” The girl almost screamed in delight.

“Uhuh! You see that mister over there? The one in the uniform?” He grins, pointing towards Jaime. “He’s gonna get us aaallll the ice cream we want!”

Jaime wanted to hit himself in the head.

He didn’t.

But oh boy, was he tempted.

“Hermano, please don’t ever say that again while we’re at a schoolyard…”

For a second Bart had stilled and his smile disappeared, trying to understand what Jaime had meant. His face turned blank, then he started to frown and then it turned into a form of disbelief. “I’m gonna take that as a _‘I don’t want to pay for all these kids’_ instead of the other thing. We’re at a schoolyard, _behave_ ,” he scolded.

Did he just… scold Jaime? The thief just scolded the policeman. What was even happening today?

“It’s weird, you can’t blame me for it,” Jaime shrugged, but then turned to the girl. “I hope you don’t mind, but we’re actually looking for your mother or father.”

“Daddy’s gonna pick me up!” The girl replied with glee. “Will you also get ice cream for my dad?”

Jaime sighed, but agreed—even though he knew that was never going to happen. He’d be glad to get away without bullet holes in his uniform. They waited for a while, Bart was amusing himself with talking to the kid and looked like he was actually having a fun time. They were swinging and were betting who could get the highest, which of course worried the crap out of Jaime. Bart seemed to be actually really good with kids—he figured that there was a hell of a lot that he didn’t quite get about Bart. Would he ever? 

These kind of cases could last up for _months_ , so it wasn’t impossible. There’s no way he’d stick with him for that long though, he’d probably get a case of his own and then move along. He could ask Bart to help him get street-wiser. To teach him about Gotham, what he needs to aware of and what he should definitely not meddle with. That actually sounded like a good plan.

He sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time that day and gazed at his shoes. He was secretly stressing the fuck out. Even though only one day was spent, he was truly worried about Mary Reed and what might happen to her if he was too late. Especially since he sees how happy the daughter is right now with Bart. He didn’t like to admit, but the anxiety was making him want to vomit…

“I never asked your name,” Jaime interrupted, breaking the conversation between Bart and the girl.

“Judy,” the girl smiled. “Judy Barton, mister!”

“Judy, have you seen your mom lately?” He asked, hoping to dull some of his bottled up worries.

“Daddy said that mom was gonna work hard for us, so she’s not home that much anymore.” She stopped swinging and planted her feet to the ground. “She’s been working for two days now, I think.”

_And the bottle overflowed._

Jaime nodded and tried smiling at the girl, but judging by Bart’s face that didn’t work that well. He paced around trying to calm his mind when he could hear someone calling _‘Judy!’_ from nearby. Bart immediately jumped from the swing and looked at Jaime, waiting for him to make the move. The girl ran towards her father and gave him a hug and told him about her ‘new friends’ and at that moment Jaime knew exactly what to do. He walked over to the man, but the moment their eyes met each other he muttered something into another language and the girl ran back into the school. The man then started to sprint back the way he came from before Jaime could even comprehend what was going on. Bart ran after the man almost immediately and yelled back at Jaime to follow him. 

It may have been the long day, the stress or maybe an entirely different reason, but Jaime was slow today. Not only in understanding a certain situation, but in running too. It was like his reflexes went on a strike. He was just behind Bart, trying not to collide with the walls every time he took a quick turn, when Barton started to throw obstacles in their way. Bart would easily manoeuvre them and continue the pursue, but Jaime had to actually try not to fall on his face.

He hated this day.

Bart ran into a different alley and Jaime had no time to think about it. Barton was running into a new alley, running up the stairs at the end, yanking the metal door open and running into a building. Jaime quickly followed, trying his best to keep up. Barton ran up, his footsteps echoed with every step he made in the hallways. Jaime almost had the collar of his shirt, but the man opened another door and almost threw it in Jaime’s face. Before he could, Bart tackled the man from outside and threw him on the ground. 

Where the hell had he come from?

“Got him,” he panted.

Jaime almost wheezed, “I can see that.” He put his hands on his knees and tried to even his breathing. _“Bien hecho.”_

Bart smiled at first, but then turned his gaze toward Barton. “Now listen up dude, I usually don’t do this, but I made a deal and I’m sticking to it,” he started, grabbing the man by the collar and dragging his face up. “Why’d you run?”

“I know my rights! You can’t—“

“I don’t give a shit, does it look like I’m a copper?” He let his collar go and simply watched as the man’s head hit the ground with a ‘thud.’ “We’re looking for your wife.”

“Mary--? But what did she do? She wouldn’t hurt—“

“Yeah, yeah, we know. Cut the crap, will ya? She’s got Lux and we need to know where she is, where she got it, how she got it and _why_ she got it. Care to fill us in?”

“I have the right to remain—“

It was then that Bart had grabbed for Jaime’s gun, put the safety off and aimed it at the man’s head without an ounce of hesitation. “You have an eight year old daughter, are you actually looking forward into telling her that her mommy died?” The man swallowed once—twice, but then shook his head. “Where’s Mary Reed?”

“She’s been working at the Lounge,” the man stuttered, suddenly much more willing to co-operate.

“Why did she get Lux?”

“…” the man first stayed silent, Bart nudged the gun to the man’s forward, daring him to stay like that. “S-She got it for me,” he panicked. “I sell it, get more money… it’s all for my daughter though, please! She’s just a little girl, we haven’t got the money—“

“You do know you become a target, right? If you re-sell drugs, not to mention on someone else’s turf, you’re gonna get yourself killed,” he frowned. He shook his head and lowered the gun, putting the safety back on and handing the gun back to Jaime who put it back in its holster. Bart stood up and wiped off his pants and looked at the man still lying on the ground. “I get why you’re doing it, but it’s going to get you more trouble.”

“Is miss Reed selling Lux to someone at the Lounge?” Jaime then asked, to which the man only nodded, trying not to look the two men in the eye. 

The day then moved on a lot quicker to Jaime. He brought the man back to the GCPD and managed to find someone to take care of Judy Barton for the time being. Bart was currently putting the ‘borrowed’ files back into the archive while Jaime was writing a report of that day. He felt like he either needed four litres of coffee or four days’ worth of sleep. At that point of time there was no in-between.

Bart and him had chatted a bit after he was done with his report. There was a simple conclusion to this day; they needed to go to Iceberg Lounge whether they liked it or not. The decided to exchange numbers—to which Jaime was sure it was from a disposable phone. He’d text or call Bart when he needed him. He’d see Bart the next day to explain how the Lounge looked like, what he needed to be aware of and how they could get out of there quickly.

Jaime dragged himself home to his dingy apartment which he rented for the time being. He didn’t bother with taking his shoe off or anything for that matter. He simply closed his eyes and dozed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! I actually had some problems writing this chapter. I loved the beginning, but nearing the end I felt like it became really boring. At least for me. When I read it back I couldn't help but to feel bored, it all feels so stiff... Kind of un-human like?
> 
> I know I said in the tags that this was Slow Build, but I think I'm going to pace it a bit up. I mean, we're four chapters in and we're still on day one. I'm still kind of puzzling on how I can pace it up, I was thinking of changing the point of view from Jaime to Bart. I guess I'll see what happens?
> 
> I'd like to know what you thought of this chapter and what you think of the story so far! 
> 
> Hated it, loved it or some general tips? Everything's welcome!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haii~ Okay, I've been gone for quite a while. I had my exams and damn... I screwed up big time. But anyway, here is the new chapter. This time I wrote it from Bart's point of view. 
> 
> Let me know if you liked it! I hope you enjoy! ^^

Days had gone by and they still hadn’t heard anything of Mary Reed. She seemed to have completely disappeared from the globe, or rather, somewhere in the Iceberg Lounge. Bart heard that Jaime tried to get a warrant, but was unable to do so. Only a cop with suicidal tendencies would go to Iceberg Lounge with a warrant. Before they’d know it, one of Penguin’s henchmen would knock on their door at the four in the morning. And that would probably be _the last_ thing they’d hear about the cop. 

Bart didn’t quite mind the small break, they had been searching the streets for more clues and Lux sellers, but weren’t able to find any. Wherever they are, they hide well. Not even someone like Bart was able to find something about them, which only sparked his interest more. Was it a crime lord that was already known in Gotham, or maybe it was a new player who entered the game. Whoever they were, they were bright and strategic about it, if not even informants and con-artists could find out about it.

He rolled around in bed, moving the blankets down and sighing. “So, who’s behind it then?” he mumbled to himself. He propped his arm behind his head and stared at the ceiling, thinking in daze.

Maybe only a select few of elites knew about the plan? And if they used their own trusted henchmen, then it wouldn’t get out of their circle… Nahh, too far-fetched. Maybe a crime lord like Joker or Riddler… Speaking of Riddler, he still owed Bart one. Maybe he knows something about this mess—

“Stop thinking about it. You’ve been working on this day and night, Allen,” he chided to himself.

And he truly had been. Because truth be told, even if Jaime didn’t want to believe it, he was concerned for Mary reed as well. He wasn’t heartless. And that was kind of the problem. You see, when you live in Gotham you have to learn to turn your back on some things, like robberies and kidnappings for example. Get mixed up in that shit and you’ll be the next target. Not that Bart was afraid, he was ready to fight those assholes. But he was also in hiding from some atrocious men. He’d rather not find out what would happen when they got a lead of where he was.

Anyway, since Jaime couldn’t find any leads or clues until he got a warrant to enter Iceberg Lounge, he was stuck. Therefore Bart was ‘free.’ Of course no man in Gotham is actually free, about every single one of them is chained down by something. May it be debt, crippling depression, or plain insanity. So, Bart went around making his usual rounds. He woke up from the awful dump bed and got out, picked some clothes from his backpack, took a shower and got dressed. He left—the place he was currently staying at—the abandoned building complex and went on the streets. He’d walk around, snatch a few wallets from sleazy business men, take the cash and get rid of the faux leather thing. He’d get breakfast at Whammy’s, another one of his favourite places, and give a high tip to the struggling, single-mom, waitress. 

“Thanks Liz’,” he’d smile before digging into the marvellous meal. “Ahh, as always, this tastes amazing,” he groaned with his mouth full.

“You know it honey,” she’d laugh before attending the next customers.

He could only imagine how hard it must be to singlehandedly raise a child. He got free coffee, which he greatly appreciated and went back to roam the streets of Gotham. Next on his list was to listen around him, gain intel and sell it for a much higher price. He was good at that, selling a story. Lying, really, but it worked. 

Some of the intel he got was the normal deal; the next robbery or kidnapping, a drug bust that was about to go down, a crime lord’s agenda was always good gossip and easy to sell. There were also bad cases in which Bart couldn’t stand still. Like hearing about the new human trafficking ring near the docks. Of course the GCPD got an anonymous tip for that one and would strike that evening. 

Bart wished he could do more, help those people sooner. But when you’re in Gotham, you need to turn your back on things.

It was around noon when Bart went to quickly check up on Mary Reed’s daughter. She stayed at her aunt’s for the time being, but Bart still liked to check to see if she was okay. Sometimes he’d bring ice-cream over when she’d sit alone on the doorstep. He had a faint idea how she might feel… And after that he’d go about his day. Eventually he had no other choice but to go to Bennies and meet up with those guys again. 

He had a bad case. He usually never has one of those, because Bart gets to be a spoiled, smartass who gets to choose his cases. But not this time… oh no. This time he had to deal with a case gone wrong in every sense of the way.

Basically, there was a huge information-gap between the guys at Bennies and Bart. The guys asked Bart to take a normal case and be done with it in a week. Simple enough right? He was supposed to see if a few shady characters from a gang were following them in the next city, Blüdhaven. Bart didn’t think it was a big deal, so he went to take a look, only to come back terrified as fuck. 

Now, Bart’s only mission was to look if those shady figures were following the guys at Bennies. He never said he’d get rid of them. The answer was quite simple too to be honest. 

“So, these guys are following you, just move to the next town.” Bart rolled his eyes and let himself fall on the couch in the backroom. “I still don’t see the problem you have with me.”

“You let them know that you were following them!” the boss yelled, slamming his hands on the desk and hunching over towards Bart. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? 

“They found out, I never let them know,” Bart countered. “I might have an idea why this is bad news for you.” 

“You don’t say?” he commented sarcastically, but slumped back into his chair. “You caused the mess, you fix it. Or we’ll fix them _and you_.”

“If that was the case you would’ve gotten rid of them a long time ago.” He stood up from his chair, slowly made his move towards the desk and hopped onto it. “No, I don’t think you can kill them. And you’re not going to kill me either,” he almost purred, knowing he had the upper hand even before this all started.

The man narrowed his eyes and looked Bart up and down. “And why’s that, cupcake?”

“Simple, because if you kill me, those guys will directly come to you first. However, if you keep me alive, they’ll first come to me,” he concludes, moving his hand to cup the man’s chin. “You needed a diversion, that’s why you got me in the first place, didn’t you?” His grip tightened and his nails were starting to dig into the man’s flesh. 

Soon enough three men pulled their guns and raised it towards Bart, but the boss waved them off. “You’re a smart fella, aren’t ya?” he grins, slapping Bart’s wrist away. And something about that grin made Bart sick to his stomach. Like there was something not right about it.

Was he wrong?

No… he had to be right.

“Either way, it’s your problem now cupcake. Deal with it,” the man huffed, standing up so he could open the door for Bart. “Ladies first,” he smirked.

He wanted to cut his face open with razor blades. 

He didn’t.

Merely because of the fact he didn’t have any razor blades with him. Otherwise that guy would’ve had it. 

Bart scoffed, rolled his eyes, but hoped of the desk and walked out of the backroom. There was something not right about that conversation he just had… He needed to have more information, and damn, he should have asked more about those shady gang members. Bart was terrified when he saw them, but that was because it looked so much like…

_‘CLUNK’_

The door was thrown shut behind him and Bart almost jumped up, looking back. Damn, don’t even have manners…

He needed to trail these guys for a while, listen if they slipped something. Anything, really. He didn’t trust this in the slightest and he always follows his gut. 

He shook his head and frowned, walking out of Bennies and taking a cig from his inner pocket. He didn’t like smoking, never liked it to begin with. But it calmed his nerves, gave him a safe feeling of familiarity and it kept the hunger away. That last one helped him a great deal while living here. Bart knew everything about it. 

He lit his cigarette up and slowly breathed it in, feeling the nicotine hit his system and relaxing him. Even if it was for a tiny bit. He was halfway done when he saw a familiar black limousine owned by a familiar man who should not see him if he liked to live a long and prosper life. Bart cursed and took a few steps back, into the alley, and hid behind a few trashcans. The car was going slow, so Penguin was probably looking out for something. Or someone. Yikes, he’d rather not be in the shoes of that person.

When the car was down the street he walked back to the main street, looking at the back window. He gasped and the cig fell from his lips, rolling over the ground and started to slowly burn out. “Shit!” he cursed as he saw the female figure struggling to get away in the backseat. He tried to immediately grab his phone and call Jaime, but the moment he reached for it, some men from across the street were running over his way.

You don’t need to be an expert to know that if bulky dudes in suits are running after you, you’re probably in big trouble. 

Bart took off, ran into an alley and tried his best to get rid of the men. It took a while— _have they been practising for a damn marathon?_ —but Bart managed to get rid of every single on when he neared the Bowery. He gasped for air, that scared him a fuck-ton… damn. And he didn’t even do anything!

Probably.

He might’ve.

Anyway, not important. Bart grasped his phone and called Jaime, who picked up in less than two beeps.

_Nice, I should make a remark about that later…_

“I found her,” he breathed.

And she was in big trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hated it, liked it or some general tips? Everything's welcome! Don't be shy! ^^


	6. Chapter 6

“You can’t be serious? You’re still trying to get that damned warrant?” Bart’s eyes flew wide, and he immediately crossed his arms, frowning at Jaime.

Jaime sighed, but countered, “We need back-up, and if we don’t want an all-out shooting— “

“He’s going to torture and _kill_ her, and you’re here wasting your time on something unattainable!” Bart interrupted. “That old geezer isn’t going to give you that piece of scrap paper anytime soon, so waste your time on saving her, will ya?” 

After seeing Mary Reed in that limo, Bart had called Jaime immediately. He had wanted to follow where they were going, but was being chased by men in suits, so he had no clue where their exact location was. Though he did have a few guesses, knowing Penguin and all. Jaime had told him to come back to the GCPD so that the men following him couldn’t get to him. That way he could guarantee the safety of at least _one person_ that day. 

Jaime sighed, feeling torn-up on what to do. If he had back-up, Bart wouldn’t have to leave the GCPD and he could remain safe for the time being. But without that he’d only have Bart to go with and that would put them all at risk against Penguin and his men. 

“Even if it is a trail for Lux, it was sold on Penguin’s turf and he obviously didn’t like that, Jaime,” Bart tried to reason. “Harold is not going to authorize that warrant, so give up on your inner turmoil and get in the fucking car.”

Bart was right… he had tried countless of times to get Harold’s approval—even Gordon’s signature—but no one was about to give it to him when it came to Penguin. They claimed he didn’t have enough evidence, even though they had Charlie Barton in custody who had _confessed everything_. Harold didn’t want to risk it and without more evidence Gordon wasn’t planning on giving him anything. The next best thing was… to just go there. And pray that they weren’t too late to save Reed.

Jaime nodded, “You’re right.” He grabbed his keys and put on his coat. “We’ll have to wing-it, no other options left.” 

“Improv is what I’m good at, no worries there,” Bart reassured, but Jaime still felt worried about what might happen. 

“Didn’t he want you dead?”

“Half of Gotham wants me dead, what’s your point?” he smirked, seemingly unfazed. But then his demeanour changed, got more serious. “If there is even the slightest of chance that we can save her, may it be with or without back-up, then we have to take it,” he insisted. “…We have to, she’s a mom.”

“I know,” he nodded, then walked towards the archives. “I’ll be right back,” he yelled back.

*

They had just arrived at Gotham Docks and by the looks of it, Penguin was here indeed. His men were waiting outside of a warehouse, looking for anything unusual. They hadn’t seen the police car, because Bart had told him where to ‘dump’ the car, so that they wouldn’t be noticed on the spot. They needed to find a way in without being seen by those… _gorillas_ , really. 

Damn, what have these guys been eating?

It was late-afternoon, so it was still bright out. These people could easily spot them if they were to simply walk to the front door. And Jaime couldn’t just shoot them, he didn’t know how many people were inside. He’d rather not fight them head-on either, with their size they would easily knock Bart and Jaime flat down on their asses. 

No, they needed to do this as stealthy as possible. 

“They’re huge,” Jaime whispered from behind a container. 

“Alarmingly so,” Bart gulped. “I forgot about that.” He peeked towards the warehouse and the men standing in front of it. “There are _a few_ ways to get in— “

“Water and roof are ruled out, we’re not superheroes ese.”

“There are _no ways_ to get in,” he corrected himself. 

Jaime chuckled and shook his head. He knelt and grabbed a few rocks. He then stood back up and peeked back towards the warehouse. “Watch and learn, hermano,” he grinned and threw a few rocks towards another container, close to their one. The two men were arguing for a bit and soon enough one was walking towards the container close to them. 

“Great, now he’s coming this way!” Bart yelled in hushed whispers. 

“Good,” Jaime whispered back. “Follow me, I’ve got a plan.” Jaime sneaked closer towards the container and waited for the man to get closer. He handed Bart the Taser from his belt and gave him a firm nod. The moment the man got close enough, Jaime grabbed his jacket, pulled him in, clamped his hand over his mouth and Bart tased him. The man struggled, but soon enough he collapsed completely, falling to the ground. Jaime immediately cuffed him to the door of the container and then looked at Bart. “You okay?”

“Yup, upsy-daisy,” he grinned. “So, we waitin’ on the other dude?”

“Yeah. I know these types; all brawn, but no brain,” he chuckled, gazing in the direction the man came from. “He’ll come looking in no-time.”

“They teach you that at the Police Academy?” Bart asked grinning, a brow raised at him.

“Nah, rebellious phase.”

The two were patiently waiting, looking at what the man was doing. He called his friend’s name out a few times and then grunted. He started to walk in the same direction his friend went. They used the same strategy and before they knew it, there were two men stuck to a container door. Before they left though, Bart grabbed duct tape out of his backpack and taped their mouths shut.

“We don’t want to be caught so early, now do we?” he informed, putting the duct tape back and throwing his bag back over his shoulder. “…So, what’s the suitcase actually for?” he asked as he looked at the thing Jaime had brought with him from the archives.

Bart had found it strange when Jaime returned from the archives with a suitcase. Immediately his mind started racing with things it might be. Money, bombs, guns, whatever police officers could get their hands on in situations like this. Maybe this day would turn out like one of those action movies—you know, where the protagonists would awesomely walk away from an explosion and not burn their entire back?

“You’ll see. Let’s go,” Jaime replied curtly and grabbed the suitcase. He looked around him, but it didn’t look like there was anyone else. He looked behind him and moved his head, silently telling Bart to come follow him. They sneaked towards the warehouse and slipped in, moving closer and closer until they started to hear voices. 

The warehouse looked abandoned from the inside. Windows were broken, it looked nasty and it was stained with things Jaime didn’t want to know the origin of. They hid behind tall shelves filled with empty barrels and looked at what was happening. Mary Reed was tied to a chair and was already beaten, her nose seemed to be broken and she was bleeding from a wound at her temples. Bart grinded his teeth, wanting to punch these people in their faces, just for doing that. 

There were two men with guns playing look-out, another man who did all the dirty work and the one who kept talking. 

_Penguin._

Jaime looked at Bart and started to think of a plan. They could move around, grab the two people with a gun first… _Or_ , they could go for the big-guy and demand Mary’s freedom.

Bart shook his head, “I know what you’re thinking, don’t. To go for Penguin would mean a massacre, they don’t care who gets hit. As long as _someone_ does,” he whispered. “We need to get rid of the obstacles and then negotiate with Penguin, it’s the only way without causing an all-out war for the GCPD.”

Jaime nodded and opened his suitcase. In it was a gun, but instead of bullets, there were _darts_. Jaime put it together and then loaded it. He aimed and hit the first man, who hissed and reached for his leg, where Jaime had hit him. He quickly aimed for the next one and hit him in his shoulder. The men reached for the spot they were hit and pulled the dart out, realisation hit them and soon enough they started to lose consciousness and fell to the ground. As soon as that happened, the last man held a knife to Mary Reed’s neck and waited for Penguin’s sign.

Penguin however, never gave it. 

“Whoever is here, if you want the girl alive, I’d advise you to come out with your hands in the air,” Penguin chanted, his voice booming through the spacious, empty warehouse. 

Jaime and Bart looked at each other. They had to quickly decide what to do next, but it seemed like they were left with little options. _Again_. Bart walked out first with his hands up in the air. He walked in slow and calm paces, his face devoid of emotion. He shrugged his backpack on the ground and looked over at Mary, to see if she was okay. Mary was crying and sniffing, softly whispering that she was _sorry_ and that she _didn’t want to die._

But then Penguin’s voice cut through. “Allen, what an unfortunate surprise,” Penguin sneered. “Finally have the guts to walk in front of me, do you?”

“I’m guessing it were your men who tried to catch me today?” Bart mimicked in the same tone.

Jaime walked out as well, his gun in hand and aimed at the man who held a knife at Mary’s throat. “Let the woman go, _now_.”

The man looked towards Penguin, but he raised his hand and told him to wait. Penguin looked Jaime up and down and then smirked. “I don’t believe we’ve met, officer…?” he dragged out, hoping to get Jaime’s last name.

“You can find out at the GCPD, you’re arrested for the abduction and assault on Mary Reed.”

Penguin sniggered, shook his head and then smirked. “I don’t think so…” he started and then turned towards Bart. “I see you’re with Allen, here. A formidable partner… Do you know what kind of man he actually is?”

“I know everything I need to know about him— “

“Do you know what kind of people are _after_ him?” he smirked. “He’s done well at hiding thus far, I’ll give him that— “

Jaime raised his gun towards Penguin and squinted his eyes in anger. “I don’t care what kind of dirt you’ve got on him, Penguin. You’re still coming with us.”

“Oh no, that’s not what I meant officer. You see, what I mean is that there are bad men after our dear Bart. If you catch me, I’ll let them know exactly where he is,” he grinned, looking over at Bart. “he’ll be dead before we know it, and you can’t stop it.” He walked over at Jaime, lowered his gun with his hand, smiling sickly at him with his foul breath. “But I’m willing to make a deal.”

…Jaime didn’t know what kind of men were after Bart. He only knew that he’s been running ever since he was young. If Penguin was talking about those same people, then Jaime could not risk taking Penguin in without endangering Bart. Those men—whoever they were—would kill Bart, of that Jaime was sure. And if Penguin could truly inform these men of Bart’s whereabouts, then Jaime had no other choice but to listen to what he had to say.

“What kind of deal?” 

Penguin smiled, “I’ll give you the girl, no problem there. I’ll even let you go with Allen, even though I’d rather see him dead at the bottom of a lake,” he started, maliciously staggering around and chanting at the ceiling and walls around him. “But then you’ll have to report to me… Every little thing that has been happening at the GCPD. You’ll be my eyes, ears, hands and feet; my little spy,” he breathed in Jaime’s face.

“I think you’re bluffing, Penguin,” Bart spoke, frowning at the man. “I _know_ you are.”

The man started sniggering again, small little chuckles as he staggered towards Bart and searched through his backpack, jacket and pants. He found his phone and then started typing on it, and gave it back to Bart with a malicious smile. “I put his number in there. You know whose,” he whispered in his ear. “You can check yourself, he’s still got the same number. Even after all these years.”

Bart looked at the phone in his hand and started to look through the contacts until he found the new number stored in there. His movements stopped, frozen by shock. He looked at the man with widened eyes, his breathing suddenly turning heavier and his face redder. 

“I gave him the _Jaws Theme_ as ringtone, I found it to be quite fitting, if you ask me,” he rambled on, but Bart wasn’t paying any attention to him anymore. His eyes were stuck, glued on that screen. “Well, it doesn’t matter. What does matter is our deal, officer.”

Jaime glanced over at Bart, who was starting to hyperventilate. When Jaime tried to move towards him, Penguin gave the man behind Reed the sign to give her a very small cut, to which she started to hysterically scream. It seemed like for now, he was driven into a corner. His priorities were Mary Reed and Bart, he’d find a solution for this matter later. He needed to get to Bart immediately. 

“Deal.”

“Wonderful! Be sure to visit the Lounge today. Alone, if you will,” he smiled. He ordered the lady to be let go and then walked out with his last man. And Jaime let him, because right at that time he needed to help Bart, who started to sway left and right. He grabbed his shoulder and his knees buckled. He managed to catch him and brought him closer to the ground, to his knees.

“Bart, I need you to focus on your breathing. _Stay in the present_ , ese,” Jaime spoke, holding his shoulders. “Count with me, okay? We’re gonna count to ten, and breathe slowly,” he instructed. 

Jaime started to slowly count to ten and showed Bart how to slowly breathe in and out. It took a while for Jaime’s feeling, but Bart did calm down. Jaime took the phone, which had fallen on the ground, and put it in his pocket. As Bart was feeling a lot calmer, he checked up on Mary Reed who was still seated in her chair. Jaime looked at the small cut, but it didn’t seem life-threatening or dangerous in the slightest. He untied here and checked the wound on her temple, it seemed to be still bleeding, so they needed to visit the hospital for that. 

“Miss Reed, my name is Officer Reyes. I’m with the GCPD. I’m going to bring you to the hospital now, okay? You’re safe now, the GCPD will protect you.”

*

After they brought Mary to the hospital, informed her daughter, husband and sister-in-law where she was and filled in a report of that day, and freed those men at the docks, Bart and Jaime were sitting silently in the car. Jaime offered to bring Bart home, and he accepted. It looked like he didn’t want to be alone, but Jaime knew better than to assume things in situations like this.

“Tell me what you need right now, hermano.”

But Bart remained silent, didn’t feel like talking to him at all. It was only after the thirty-minute ride, when they arrived at the abandoned building complex when Bart started talking.

“I can’t stay here.”

“Well, no. That building has got be prohibited from entering, it’s a _wreck_ ,” Jaime started, but Bart shook his head. 

“Not that… I mean _Gotham._ ”

Jaime lowered his arm from the steering wheel and got the key from the ignition. “Bart… I don’t know who’s been after you for all these years, but you should know… that I wasn’t kidding when I said the GCPD can help you. That _I_ can help you.”

But Bart was shaking his head again. “You don’t know this man… He’s… he’s a _monster_ ,” he brought his head closer to his knees, his hands covering his eyes. 

“Then I’ll catch him. Whatever it takes.”

Bart wiped at his eyes, and leaned back into the seat. “You’re stuck with Penguin because of me.”

“No. I’m stuck with him because I didn’t get back-up when I needed it. But it’s not the end of the world, if we play our cards right, we can use Penguin to find the guy who’s been making Lux,” Jaime explained. “Without you, Mary Reed would be dead by now, Bart.”

“That doesn’t fix anyth— “

“You gave us our biggest lead yet. We can now find the guy who sold Mary the drugs. He’s a direct link to whoever’s been making it.” Jaime sighed and then looked at the apartment complex. “I’m not letting you stay there, hermano.”

“Should I sleep under a bridge then?” Bart tried to scoff, but hiccupped instead.

“No, you’re staying with me. And I’m not having any excuses. So, we’re getting out of this car, we’re grabbing your stuff and you’re moving in with me for the time being, ese,” he concluded and then stepped out of the car, throwing the door closed. He moved to Bart’s side of the car and opened the door, waiting for him to step out. “Come on, move.”

And he did just that. He stepped out of the car, they grabbed what they could of Bart’s belongings and moved them to police car. They went back to the GCPD, because technically Jaime wasn’t allowed to bring the car home with him and then carried everything back to his place. 

They were lucky it wasn’t a lot. Since he was always on the run, he couldn’t have many belongings. Jaime lived near the GCPD, it was twenty minutes on walking distance. It was a small apartment on the ground floor, he got his own garage as well. Overall, it was a great deal, a little expensive, but still great. 

Jaime first walked towards his garage and opened the door. He had a spare key there, so he needed to fetch it for Bart. The moment it opened, Jaime flicked on the lights and Bart started to laugh for the first time after his panic attack that day.

“Is that—Do you--- Pff, you drive a _Blue Beetle_?” he choked out. 

“At least I have a car,” Jaime shrugged, but grinned happily knowing that Bart was feeling a bit better. “And I have a licence to drive it.”

“Oh ha-ha,” Bart joked, rolling his eyes. “You and I both know the only reason I was caught by Perez was because I _wanted_ to be caught,” he puffed. 

“Sure, ese, you tell yourself that,” he laughed, putting the box with Bart’s stuff on the ground to fetch the key. He gave it to Bart and then picked the box pack up, shut off the lights and closed the garage door. He then walked to the front door and opened it, walking in and calling back, “Welcome to your new home, ese.”

“…Looks… empty. Not much for decorations, are you?”

“Pff, shut up, Allen,” Jaime laughed, closing the door behind Bart. “I’ll put your stuff in my room. We need to get you a bed, but you should be fine on the couch for now. Uhm, the bathroom is the second door on your left, the kitchen is in the same room as the living room and we have a balcony. It’s useless since we live on the ground floor, but it’s something,” Jaime started to explain, putting Bart’s stuff in his room and walking around the place, starting to tidy it up.

Bart nodded, looking around the place. He looked at a picture on the coffee table, one of Jaime’s family, and then put his box down as well. Jaime was just starting with tidying up the living room when Bart looked at him and gave him a small smile.

“Thanks… for all of this.”

Jaime stopped, seemingly surprised, but then smiled back. “I’m glad I can help, hermano.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hated it, liked it or some general tips? You can always let me know! ^^


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update guys! I've been really busy with school and my internship, so I hadn't had the time to actually write. But here you go, I hope you all enjoy!

It was only after Jaime was sure Bart was asleep that he left his dingy apartment and drove to the Iceberg Lounge. He didn’t want Bart to stress more about this day, as was sure it already felt like hell to him. He needed to play his cards right with Penguin, and that was best done without worrying about his companion. He needed to be focused on his task ahead…

Trick a crime lord into helping you solve a case.

Shouldn’t be too hard, right?

He could of course turn around and forget about all of this bullshit. The thought had crossed his mind, multiple times. But then Penguin would send those people— _whoever those people were_ —after Bart and Jaime couldn’t let that happen. How infuriating this situation was, he needed to help Bart and solve this case.

He turned his key and shut down the engine, he stepped outside of his car and locked it, though he had no clue if that was going to help in this place. He parked his car a few blocks away from the Iceberg Lounge, even though he knew that Penguin probably had eyes everywhere within these parts of Gotham. It was worth a try. Nothing sucks more than your car being stolen.

The Lounge was lit up in various neon coloured signs and music could be heard booming from outside. The place was crowded, and Jaime hadn’t even entered the damn building yet. Everywhere were people; smoking, dancing, making out. It certainly wasn’t something Jaime was used to seeing. Definitely not the strange fashion sense all these people seemed to have in common. He walked up to the entrance and once one of Penguin’s goons spotted him, he was led inside and straight up to the top floor. There was no sound, everything was quiet and the place had an old, icy feeling to it. Penguin sat in his chair at the end of a very long table, drinking from a glass of champagne, laughing. 

“Ahh, officer. You sure like to keep people waiting, don’t you?” Penguin commented, taking another sip from his glass and sending his standing patron away. “Where’s our dear mister Allen?”

“What did you want, Penguin?” Jaime frowns. Like he’d ever reveal where Bart was. The less Penguin knew about Bart, the better.

“No need to be rude. We both have the same goal, officer Reyes. We both want the guy who made Lux. I just want that… and then some,” Penguin sickly smiled, hunching over his glass and leaning more towards the table. Which looked ridiculous judging by the distance between Penguin and Jaime. 

Jaime squinted his eyes. How the hell did he know his name? Was the GCPD infiltrated, or did one of his goons find out for him? If that was the case, it’d mean that they already knew where Bart was and that he wasn’t safe to begin with. “ _And then some_ … You mean me being your spy?”

“Aren’t you a bright one,” Penguin smirked, leaning back into his chair, as if he thought he’d already won.

Up till now, it seemed to be going in Jaime’s favour. Even Penguin wanted to catch the guy that made Lux. Maybe now he’d finally get some back-up or reinforcements when he actually needed it.. that’d actually be amazing. 

“And if I don’t turn information in?”

Penguin grinned, which then turned into him sniggering and him standing up from his chair. He staggered over to Jaime, standing eye to eye with him and giving him a sickly sweet smile. Jaime had to try his best not to look the other way, the foul breath making him want to throw up and stuff toothpaste into his nose. “Well, since we both have an interest in mister Allen, I’d first get him. Rough him up nice,” he said overjoyed, still smiling. “Then I’d make a call, you know to who. After that, I’ll go after your family… your friends, make you watch.” He shrugged his shoulders and swayed a bit, his expression saying that he didn’t really care. He took a step closer. “And after that, when no one’s left, I’ll go after you. I’ll make you beg,” he whispered, his face only inches from Jaime’s face. “What do you think of that, officer Reyes?”

“That you’re frustrated and need a date,” Jaime coughed, taking a step back and trying to get some fresh air. 

Penguin gave a dull laugh, started to nod vigorously, and pointed his finger while squinting his eyes. “You… Hehe, you’re a funny guy,” he smiled. One of his goons hit Jaime in the stomach, making him hunch over and take a knee, trying to breath in and keep his lunch where it belongs. “I hate funny guys.”

“Noted,” Jaime groaned, “Still don’t care though,” he spat at his shoes, frowning at the man. If he wanted a damn fight, he’d give him one. Consequences be damned. 

_Not really, but it’s the thought that counts._

Jaime stood slowly back up, smashed the goon in the gut with his shoulder and pointed his gun at the man standing near the corner. He eyed Penguin, and then relaxed his arm, putting his gun back into its holster. “I’ll help you get rid of the guy that makes Lux, fine. But let me tell you this; try to even make an _attempt_ towards my family and friends, and I’ll make you regret it. _Comprendido?_ ” 

Penguin chuckled, shook his head. “And what will you do?”

“You’ll see.”

*

It was around three p.m. when Jaime finally returned home. He felt like he could collapse on the couch, but since it was inhabited by someone else, his bed would have to do. He shambled off to his room when he heard noises from the kitchen. His hand flew towards his gun, he took slow but sure steps toward the kitchen. The light was on and the door to the balcony was open, in the door opening was Bart, smoking a cigarette. Jaime’s hand relaxed, going lax at his side. He breathed a sigh of relief and stepped into the kitchen, knocking on the counter to get Bart’s attention.

“You noticed I was gone, ese?” he asked, feeling rather sheepish.

Bart shook his head, he hadn’t turned around, still silently smoking his cigarette. 

“Couldn’t sleep well? I still have some milk in the fridge, I can heat it up for you?” he offered, but Bart shook his head again. It didn’t look like he had a nightmare, his skin wasn’t covered with sweat and his hair and clothes weren’t dishevelled. It did look like he was wearing his pyjamas though, a yellow, oversized sweatshirt with shorts.

“…You went to see Penguin’s?” 

Jaime remained silent for a while. Of course he knew Bart wasn’t dumb, he couldn’t be after living so long on his own in Gotham. But somehow he hadn’t expected him to _know_. “Yeah, needed to fix things up.”

“He threaten your family?”

“He tried… But it didn’t work. It won’t, I’m not gonna let him,” Jaime frowned, his arms folded together. He was leaning on the counter, his mind quickly racing back to what happened. It felt like a lifetime ago already. 

Bart simply nodded and finished his cigarette, dumping it in a DIY ashtray. He then closed the door, locked it and turned around, walking back to the couch, passing Jaime and lying back on it. 

“Why do you do it?” Jaime asked, cutting the silence again.

It was quiet for a little time, before a soft voice was heard. “Do what?”

“Smoke.”

Bart shrugged, putting the blanket over him and trying to get a little warmer. He was freezing. “Sometimes it’s to pass time, sometimes to pass hunger.” It remained quiet for a long time after that. Jaime wasn’t quite sure what to say or do, he still needed to put on his own pyjamas and get ready for bed, he’d probably was going to get a long day tomorrow… today… whatever.

“Were you bored of sleeping?” Jaime asked, needing to know even though he knew he wouldn’t like the answer.

“No.”

Jaime sighed and walked over to the couch, sitting at the edge of it and poked at Bart’s feet. Bart tried to pull them in, but Jaime kept poking, eventually throwing the blanket off his legs, making Bart keep struggling to stay warm whilst avoiding Jaime.

“Stop,” he first complained and grumbled, but as the more pokes Jaime gave him, the more soft smiles and little laughs escaped him until he finally pulled both his legs up and sat up, making place for Jaime on the couch which he gladly took. 

“My home is your home, hermano. If you’re hungry, it’s okay to raid the fridge,” he smiled. “I want you to feel home, y’know?”

Bart’s smile quickly evaporated, but he nodded. “Yeah… okay.”

But it didn’t look like he was going to stand up and eat something. It didn’t look like that at all. So Jaime did the one thing he could think of; he swung the blanket out of the way and grabbed Bart by his oversized sleeves, dragging him to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and threw some eggs behind him, trusting Bart to catch him. _Thank God he did, he did not want to clean that mess up._ He grabbed some leftovers and put them on the counter. When he looked at Bart he smiled, having this nostalgic memory on his mind.

“When I was a kid, before Milagro was born, my mom would always make me this tomato-omelette-dish when she didn’t feel like cooking a big meal,” he started to explain as he grabbed a cutting board and put the few vegetables on there. “She’d put in leftovers and all other kinds of stuff, and the great part? It only took about twenty minutes to get done.” He instructed Bart to wash the vegetables while he grabbed a frying pan from a cabinet. “She used it for dinner, most of the time. But sometimes when I woke up way too early, she’d make it for breakfast. That way my dad would also have a hearty meal before work.”

“Jaime, we really don’t have to—“

“Like I said, sometimes it comes in handy before going to work. Which I have to in about four hours,” Jaime shrugged. “’Least we could do is make a hearty meal, no?” 

*

After they made the meal and ate it, Jaime instructed Bart to finally go to bed. He could barely keep his eyes open at that point. As he shuffled back to the couch and fell straight asleep, Jaime started to wash the dishes and clean the kitchen. At least he already had breakfast, and he could take some with him to work. 

He dried his hands when the last dish was cleaned and looked over at the couch. Bart was sound asleep and Jaime gave a soft smile. Even though he didn’t know the guy that long, he couldn’t turn his back on someone who needed help. He couldn’t imagine the things Bart might’ve been through, wasn’t even sure if he truly wanted to know. But he wanted to help, and he did want him to feel safe. For now, he wanted him to feel _home_.

It was around five a.m. and at this point he didn’t think that sleeping was an option. He moved to the bathroom, took a shower, changed his uniform and prepared his backpack with documents and now the leftovers from breakfast for work. He still hadn’t returned Bart’s phone… didn’t know if he needed it for his own work. Jaime eyed Bart’s phone, he had put it in a drawer in his nightstand. He couldn’t let Bart have it… If Penguin ratted him out, at least Jaime could find out first and bring Bart to safety. He grabbed the phone and put it in his backpack. 

He’d get him a new one, that way he could still contact him when he was out. Lucky enough, his apartment had a landline. Never thought that those old things could be useful. 

He checked if he had everything and then spent his remaining time reading some reports which he had brought with him earlier. After all his time was up, he grabbed his stuff and keys and silently left the apartment, closing the door behind him. He walked to the GCPD headquarters and greeted everyone he met. At his desk sat Murphy, patiently waiting for him, he turned around and smiled when Jaime arrived. 

“There ya are, brother! Got you good news, the lady talked and we know who the dude is that sold her the drug!” he cheered, punching Jaime in the shoulder.

Jaime held his shoulder, trying to laugh, but it came out rather miserably. “Ha-ha, yay—ouch…”

Murphy scoffed and rolled his eyes. “So, how’ve things been goin’?” 

Jaime sighed, grabbing his chair and slouching in it. “It could not have gone worse, hermano.”

Murphy’s eyes shot open, visibly shocked the Hispanic could be anything but happy or determined. “What’s up?” he asked, nudging him with his elbow.

“Penguin happened.”

“Oh boy… you didn’t get in a mess, did ya?”

“Who’d I be if I didn’t?” Jaime mock-smiled, but then sighed. “After this case, if I don’t give him intel, I don’t know what he’ll do… If he’ll actually go through with what he said,” he tried to explain, but his lack of sleep was messing with his mind. Damn, he needed coffee and fast.

“Damn… Harold’s not gonna like this one, that’s for damn sure,” Murphy muttered, mostly talking to himself now. “Tell you what, after we finish this case up, I’ll find a way to pre-occupy Penguin. That way you can safely go home without problem, cool?” Murphy offered.

And the offer was tempting. But Jaime knew he was going to have another case after this, he couldn’t leave Gotham yet. He needed to help Bart, one way or another.

He looked at some case files for the time being, looked up the name that was given and was actually surprised that he’d heard the name before on the streets. Vic Wilbur, though his name was never used in the same sentence as Lux. …For what was it used again? Where had he heard it from?

Damn… he needed that coffee _now_. 

He took large strides toward the coffee machine and actually took a moment to look at all the people in the GCPD. Trying to remember the faces, the building itself, the people he hadn’t seen before. He hadn’t really thought about it before, but the GCPD looked amazing. Even better than the EPPD, though he really missed the warm weather and sunshine. A normal day in Gotham looked like a day of Jack the Ripper’s adventures during night. 

He grabbed his mug and went back to his desk, he had a ton of reports to fill in so he probably wouldn’t go on field duty that day. He also still needed to put all those files Bart stole from the archives back, he just never felt like doing it. Well, seemed like today was going to be that day. He grabbed the bag in which the files were and walked over to the archives. He was putting them back one by one, trying to find the right places for each file, when a bunch of rude-ass colleagues bumped into him which caused everything to fall on the ground.

Guess who didn’t help pick it up?

_Pendejos._

Jaime first put the remaining files in his arms back where they belonged and then scooped up the files that didn’t lose any content. There were only four files that were scattered across the floor by this point, nothing too out of the ordinary. After puzzling a bit, he put all the files back and the job was done. Yet, it didn’t seem like Jaime was going to move from his spot. He knew that the GCPD had a file about Bart… Jaime walked over to the ‘A’ and started looking for Allen, but after checking four times he couldn’t seem to find anything. 

“Did he.. take it out?” Jaime mumbled to himself.

Jaime shrugged, putting his hands in his pocket, he could’ve expected that to be honest. Jaime supposed he could find the version on the computer, if Harold was ever going to help him get into the damned system.

He was busy the next few hours and then decided he needed a break. He went out, bought a meal for two and actually went home. He opened the door, which wasn’t locked so that meant that Bart was home—or just forgetful, and walked in. 

“Bart?” Jaime called, to which he got a reply in seconds.

“Yeah?”

“I got us Lunch.” Soon footsteps were heard walking his way. Bart’s head popped out from the bathroom, his hair still dripping wet, but himself being fully clothed. “There’s a blow-dryer in there, y’know?” He chuckled, pushing a bit at the fabric that was now wet as well. Bart scoffed and took the paper bag from Jaime’s arms. He walked over to the kitchen and started grabbing the plates from all the right cabinets. “You been digging?” 

Bart froze, trying to grab a plate from the high cupboard and looking like a deer in headlights. He sheepishly smiled and tried to shrug it off, grabbing the plate and putting it on table. “…Just trying to find out if you’re not a psychopath,” he trailed of. 

“And?”

“You’re in the clear. For now,” Bart winked, giving him a sly smile. “If there is anything sketchy, I’ll find it though,” he joked, throwing a napkin at Jaime’s face and miserably watching as it didn’t even come close and is now on the floor.

“That was a perfectly fine napkin, what’d it ever do to you?” Jaime blankly spoke as he looked at the poor napkin on the floor.

“Existing,” Bart said with a serious face, but then broke out in laughter. He opened the paper bags and put all the food on the plates.

“…hey—uh, I need to ask you something,” Jaime started.

Bart looked at him and nodded, “Shoot.”

“Did you borrow your own file from the archives?”

Bart stood still for a while, seemingly shocked. “No. Never have, to be honest,” he admitted. “You trying to do your homework, officer?” He grinned, his eyes actually closing a little, letting Jaime know it was genuine.

“Well, it only seems fair,” Jaime responded. “You sure you don’t have it? It’s not at the GCPD.”

Bart shook his head again, sitting in the dining chair and pulling his plate towards himself. “I really never looked at it…” He was going to take a bite when he froze, frowned and put the sandwich back on the plate. “There’s no security when it comes to those files. Anyone could come in and steal it,” Bart muttered, averting his gaze from his sandwich and then looking at Jaime. “That means someone has my file.”

Jaime sat opposite of him and pulled his own plate towards him. “Looks like it,” he hummed. “You have an idea who?”

“Could be anyone. Penguin, my clients, another crime lord, maybe even a crooked copper,” he summed up, taking a bite of his sandwich and groaning when the taste hit his tongue. “You got this at Whammy’s?” 

“Yeah, it’s one of my favourite places,” Jaime smiled. But he was definitely trying to cover up his thoughts with a façade. Jaime didn’t think Penguin’s goons stole the case, and he was sure that a client didn’t either. He’d bet that it were the same men who were after Bart, the ones who he’s terrified of now. Which would mean that they already were in Gotham and just needed to locate him.

When Jaime tuned back in, Bart was talking about a story of how he first stumbled in to Whammy’s and how he became a regular there. It was interesting, hearing about parts of Bart’s life. The main differences between their own. It was something else, but it was certainly worth listening to. After they finished their sandwiches, Jaime tried to grab the plates, but Bart slapped his hands away.

“You did the dishes yesterday… this morning… whatever, you know what I mean,” he awkwardly coughed, but then smiled. He grabbed the plates and moved them over the sink where he started to wash them. “You recycle?”

“Yeah, the containers are just around the corner for this apartment complex. You need the key to open the damn things though,” Jaime explained, grabbing all the paper and the forgotten napkin on the floor and stuffed them all in the same paper bag. ”I’ll do this, my break’s about to end anyway.”

Bart nodded, putting the plates in the drying rack and drying his hands on a small towel that hang near the sink. “What time do you get back?”

“I should be back around six, if not… you know where to find me,” Jaime grinned. “Perez has been missing you a lot lately,” he laughed, to which Bart threw the wet towel at Jaime.

“I’m sure he has. What’s not to miss about me?” he joked back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If you liked it, hated it or have some general tips, feel free to leave a comment! ^^


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I'm back! As always, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter! ^^

Bart needed to find the gang that were after the people in Bennies and get rid of them before they’d harm Jaime. That was his initial thought when Jaime left to go back to work. He just… he didn’t know how. There were many possibilities, but were there any without him dying a hero’s death? He’d rather stay alive for the shitstorm that was about to come. You know, the entire deal with Lux and all that. He knew he could always ask Jaime to help him with the gang, but he already had so much on his plate. Bart didn’t want to make things worse or give the poor guy a burnout before the case was complete. He had to do this alone… or find another cop that was willing to help him. 

Or another gang to take out the first gang, but that would end up in a bloodbath. So that was out of the question… equation… whatever. You get the gist. 

Bart had just finished the dishes and put them in the drying rack. He dried his hands and then walked over to Jaime’s room where his stuff was. He’d been looking for his phone for a while now, but he couldn’t seem to find it. A nagging feeling in the back of his mind said that Jaime still had it, but he didn’t like to listen to it. It was as if he kept looking, even though there is no chance of finding it, he could still fix everything that has happened. That was going to happen. 

But nothing would be that easy.

Bart sighed, feeling rather tired. He looked at the clock and pushed his hair back, from getting into his face. It was still wet from his shower, though it wasn’t dripping anymore. He should probably dry that before he caught a cold. He walked over to the bathroom and looked for the blow-dryer. As he was drying his hair he wondered why in hell’s name Jaime would have one, since he didn’t have that much hair. Maybe ‘cause it was really thick? At least, that’s what he guessed. It’s not like he ever thought about what it would feel like, nah, nope. Not at all. 

And if he did, that would be out of _pure curiosity_. Nothing more. 

He put the blow-dryer down and started to tame his hair with his fingers, he should probably cut it, but he never really felt like it. He liked his hair to be a bit longer so he could put it in a ponytail or something like that. He rarely did it though, he kept losing those damn hair ties. Or they always broke… Damn struggles. 

He was walking down the hallway and stopped in front of the mirror. He was wearing one of Jaime’s shirts since all his clothes were in the washing machine now. He had asked if it was okay, and even though Jaime had said ‘yes’, it felt weird to wear his clothes. They were a few sizes too big to begin with, so Bart was swimming in his blue sweater. Not that he minded, most of his clothes were a few sizes too big. That had always been a conscious choice, since Bart was always a bit on the skinnier side. Especially since he’s been on the run… Though with the way Jaime’s been feeding him, he’d probably return to his normal size in record time.

He huffed, but still smiled a bit. He just couldn’t quite believe that there was really someone who still cared about a stranger like him. Didn’t think he’d ever meet someone like that ever again…

And if he didn’t solve his own problems, Jaime might be the last one to ever care. 

He grabbed his key, coat and wallet and went out. He locked the door behind him and walked his way to Bennies. Bart had been thinking about his last encounter with the men in there for a while now. Something about it seemed completely off. They were talking about the gang that was after them and how Bart figured out that he was the decoy so that they could escape. But he didn’t think that was the case anymore.

Bart had seen some of the people of that gang… and initially he got scared, because one of them looked a lot like someone he knew. At that time, he shrugged it off, told himself that it couldn’t be him. But after the event with Penguin… the phone number… he wasn’t too sure anymore. Maybe it was him? Maybe he’d found Bart after all this time, and that meant he was in Gotham. 

That meant Bart wasn’t _safe_. That it was only a matter of time before…

“Watch out!” 

A man grabbed Bart’s arm and yanked him back as hard as he could. Bart fell flat on his ass, only now snapping back to reality. There was a car that was speeding apparently and didn’t stop for the traffic lights. The man had yanked him back before he could get hit by it. Bart turned around, thanked the man for saving him, but he simply smiled, said he didn’t have to and that it was only the normal thing to do.

Bart nodded and gave a faint smile. He stood up and brushed his clothes off. He was almost near Bennies, he knew that much. He turned a corner and then froze on the spot. 

*

Jaime was almost done with his shift, an hour or so still left. He’d been asking around if someone happened to have seen the Allen file somewhere around, but it didn’t seem like it. There was some good news to all of it though, he was finally put into the system that day. He could have cried from joy, but it probably would have been more out of frustration.

_How the fuck does this work?_

He’d been toying with the computer, pressing buttons on the screens and opening every file he could get to simply get the hang of it, but this program was like a maze. After what felt like an eternity he did find the online archives. He clicked on the icon and it showed a loading bar on the screen.

“It usually takes a while before everything’s loaded. You should’ve typed his name instead,” his colleague Jess mentioned from behind him. He turned around and looked at her, she was holding a few brown and yellow maps in her arms and was reading the title of every one before she handed Jaime one. “Here you go, everything you need to know on the dealer.”

He thanked her and looked at the brown map.

_Again with those cursed ropes._

He grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the rope away before opening the map and looking inside. Vic Wilbur was a forty-two-year-old man, currently ‘unemployed’ and has spent jailtime for selling illegal drugs to underage people. 

“Seems like he didn’t learn his lesson,” Jaime sighed. He eyed the load bar only to see that it wasn’t even halfway done. He massaged the bridge of his nose, feeling even more tired than first. Promptly, he stood up, went to the coffee machine to get himself a cuppa and looked a bit more into Vic’s files. He didn’t seem dangerous, but Jaime knew better than to simply assume things. He grabbed his cup of coffee when it was done and awkwardly changed the page with his left hand, wanting to read a bit more.

“There’s something I’ve been thinking about,” someone behind him said. He turned around to see officer Perez there, looking at him. Jaime hummed, ushering him to continue. “Why do they call it Lux?”

That was… something he liked to know too. “I know that Lux means ‘light’ in Latin,” Jaime said, putting his mug on the counter and putting the map next to it. 

“Yeah, but if it kills people wouldn’t ‘darkness’ or ‘death’ be a better name?” he stressed, scrunching his eyebrows a bit. He grabbed his own mug and then pushed the button for coffee himself, patiently waiting for it to fill his cup.

Jaime thought about it, it did seem rather odd to name a drug after something that wasn’t quite… ‘bright’ so to say. “Maybe they chose it because Lux actually brings you to the light. You know, the light at the end of the tunnel,” he offered, crossing his arms over each other and leaning against the counter. 

Perez snickered, shaking his head and then looking at Jaime. “That’s a messed-up metaphor… Maybe a side effect of the drug is that they actually see more light?” he countered.

“Could be, no one’s quite alive to tell the tale for us,” Jaime sighed, “we don’t have any samples of the drugs either, so we don’t know what’s in it.”

Perez put his hand on Jaime’s shoulder, shaking him a bit. “We know it attacks the brain,” he offered, trying in a faint attempt to cheer Jaime a bit up. “Soon enough the science-y people will find out what it does.”

“It _could_ attack the brain. It’s different every time a body pops up, ese,” Jaime huffed. 

Perez was right though, but it wouldn’t be easy getting Lux. There have been countless of undercover cops trying to get it. Most of them were lucky enough not to _die_ in the process and simply land up in the hospital. Others weren’t that lucky and were found dead in warehouses, drowned at Gotham docks or ‘overdosed’ by an unidentifiable drug. Aka Lux. And even then, the doctors, scientists, whoever were trying to find out what Lux does, could not find out what it does. 

“I gotta go, take care okay?” Jaime sighed as he grabbed his mug and map and walked back to his desk. The load bar was now three quarters filled, so Jaime figured he could look at the case a bit more. 

For some reason, Jaime had the feeling they’d been going at it all wrong. There have been forensics who have said the Lux dupes strongly resemble the effects of the actual Lux. Some differences being different side effects or other symptoms, but all still ending with death. Which makes him wonder why people are still buying this crap if they know what’s going to happen. 

“To closely resemble a drug… don’t you need to have a sample of it?” he muttered in thin air, rubbing his chin and looking at the map. 

There was a soft _‘ding’_ from his computer and he looked to see that all the files in the archives were loaded onto his screen. He looked for _Allen_ and once he found it, he clicked on it. The file loaded and he scrolled through it.

First there was general information about Bart, how many times he’s been arrested, what for he’s been arrested. Not quite what he was looking for. He looked up his parents, Don Allen and Meloni Thawne Allen. Both came up as deceased. He frowned, a nagging feeling tugging at him. He clicked on the file and the first case name that was shown was called; _'The Allen Massacre.'_

*

Bart was frozen on the spot. The gang members were there… _He saw them_. They were in the alley next to Bennies. He took a few steps back, hid behind the corner he came from and looked how the scene unfolded. The boss was yelling at his phone, looking towards the Alley. _“We had a deal! We had a deal!”_ he roared, slowly pacing away from the alley.

The men in the alley were laughing, smirking, reaching for hidden weapons and baseball bats. _Taunting them_. 

Bart had to tell himself to _breathe_. He wrapped his arms over the blue sweater, almost like he was hugging himself. _Protecting himself_. He tried to breathe in slowly, but the air came in more like hiccups. He _knew_ what was going to happen. Had seen it many times… But he couldn’t leave, he needed to know _why_ it was happening. He needed to stay… follow them if needed. 

Which was exactly what he needed to do, because the men from Bennies were running and the gang was running after them. He cursed and started to follow them, taking as many side cuts and back alleys as possible so he wouldn’t be noticed or found. 

He was panting, pressing his back to a wall and looking up. He usually had to run a lot, but he couldn’t _breathe_ properly. He was trying not to sway, trying to stay put. The noises echoed… Bart wasn’t quite sure from where, having lost them a while ago. But he could hear them clearly.

_“Deal’s off, buddy,”_ a man laughed. He could hear something thudding against the wall and then dropping to the ground. _“You didn’t get the job done.”_

_“I got the boy,”_ another man groaned, it sounded like one of the men at Bennies. 

_“You don’t. He wanted_ a location.” Another thud. He heard men groaning, heard iron hit walls and things breaking. _“You don’t have the boy, you don’t have a location._ You failed.” Noises kept echoing throughout the alleys. He was fairly certain he got the gist of what was happening. In Bart’s mind, everything pieced together and he knew _exactly_ what was going on.

He needed to get out of there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hated it, loved it or some general tips? Feel free to leave a comment! ^^


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished this early, hope you like it!

Jaime clicked on the file and started to speedread the entire thing. 

About eleven years ago, in Central City, there was a massacre within families. The Wests, the Garricks, the Crandalls, the Allens and the Thawnes. A total of twelve deaths; they were brutally slaughtered by one man. There was only one survivor, Bart Allen. At the age of twelve he managed to escape from his attacker and has been missing ever since according to the Central City police department. What they did not know was that he’d been hiding in Gotham. For some reason however the CCPD didn’t get a word of all the arrests Bart has had in Gotham, which made Jaime think that he still has people in the force caring for him. 

He’s being protecting by them… by someone there.

The attacker of the Allen Massacre is called Eobard Thawne. Father of Meloni Thawne Allen and grandfather of Bart Allen. He was caught ten years ago, but broke free only a month later. The CCPD had been on the lookout for three years, but then gave up searching. Eobard Thawne, a merciless murderer, was free.

Eobard had stayed low ever since then, but always with one goal in mind. Bart Allen had to die. Maybe that’s why the CCPD didn’t look for Bart, because if Eobard found out where his grandson was, there wouldn’t be anything left to save. 

And now, he was in Gotham. He has all the information he needs on Bart Allen, he only needs to know where he is to finish what he started eleven years ago. 

And that meant he was close. Too close.

Jaime shut his computer down and quickly got out of his seat. He grabbed his keys and maneuvered himself through the people to get to the door. Murphy grabbed his shoulder, staring wide out of his eyes.

“What’s wrong, brother? You onto something?”

Jaime shrugged him off and kept moving towards the door. He looked back and yelled, “I’ll explain later, I promise!” Once he finally reached the door he started sprinting home. He didn’t care that he needed to push people away, or that it started pouring rain. Didn’t care that it was freezing and that he didn’t brought his coat, all he needed was to get home as fast as possible. He ran through the bleak streets, people looking after him to see if he was pursuing someone, and then continuing their own lives. 

He finally reached his home and strode to his front door, trying to open it and seeing it was locked. Jaime swallowed, rubbing his head with both his hands and crouching down to breathe more air in. He needed to think logically. Could he call him? _No, I still have his phone._ Could he ask someone where he was? _No, I don’t know anyone who might know…_ Could he find him? _I don’t know. Eobard might've gotten him by now…_

He slammed the door, feeling desperate and furious and running out of time. He needed to find him… He couldn’t just give up or feel sorry for himself and Bart. He fished his keys out of his pockets and opened the garage. He drove his blue beetle out and then closed the garage. 

He’d find him, he _had to._

He promptly stepped on the gas pedal and was searching through every street he knew of. He went to where he had first met Bart, looked around and then would drive somewhere else. He’d been to Whammy’s, the school Judy Barton went to, the streets he’d often hustle people in… The last thing that remained was Bennies. He parked in front of the coffee shop and got in. He was soaked, water dripping off him like he just took a dive in an actual pool. He walked up to the front, but before he opened his mouth the lady started, “Finally, yer here! I called in fiftin minates agou!”

“Called in…-called in for what?” he ushered, frowning. He didn’t have time for a damn bar fight!

“Them people at the back ‘ve finally don’ it. A group of thugs must’ve got ‘em by now,” she slurred, clearly putting more than just coffee beans in her beverage. “I warned ‘em weeks agou, but they didn’ listen. Serves ‘em right.”

Jaime shook his head a few times. The people at the back… in the backroom. He clearly remembered what happened when he was with Bart here. How Bart needed to ‘get rid of someone.’ He groaned, slamming the counter and pacing in a little circle. Those people were the closest thing he had to possibly finding Bart. 

“Where did they go? Which direction?” Jaime ushered, wiping the lower half of his face with his sleeve. 

“Left to the back alleys.”

He nodded, turned around and pushed the door open with more force than needed. The moment he was out he started running again. The alleys…it was like a maze… he didn’t know if he’d seen those same walls before or if they just looked alike. Didn’t know if he was running in circles or was getting close to where those people might be. The rain cancelled out every other noise he could hear, didn’t even hear his own footsteps on the pavement anymore. He wanted to yell for Bart, but he knew better than to do that. 

He’d been running from alley to alley, his pace slowing down. He finally stopped and stared at the sky. The rain washed all his sweat away, cooled him down. He hunched over, put his hands on his knees and slowly breathed in and out a few times. He wiped the water from his eyes and started to jog around this time, scanning the area every time. 

He looked under iron apartment stairs, containers or behind trash bins. He entered abandoned buildings to see if he sheltered somewhere, but there was no sign of anyone entering either. He was just about to enter a new connected alley when he looked to the ground, inspected his soaked shoes. It was his only pair too…

He looked at the grey ground, now coloured with what looked like ink black water. He kept staring, every often or so looking up so he wouldn’t crash into trash bins or anything like that. He started to see something weird. The water that looked like black, or brown with filth, started to become red.

He stopped in his tracks. Stared in front of him, the blood was coming from around the corner. 

_It could be Bart’s… I… I..._

His breathing turned heavy and fast, his eyes burning and throat growing tighter with the second. He didn’t know... didn’t want to know if it was him… He didn’t want to turn around that corner. He breathed in… Once, twice. His hands were shaking, but that could have been because of the cold. With heavy footsteps, he walked towards the wall, put his hand on his gun and peeked around the corner.

There were up to eight bodies there. All looked like they were beaten to death, some faces not even recognizable. When he saw that there were no other people around he walked over, inspected every body there was.

He… he needed to know if any one of them was Bart. Didn’t care they were dead or the lives they lead, as long as they weren’t _him_. He moved the last body around, his face beaten to a pulp, but luckily not Bart. He grabbed his Walkie Talkie and started to explain the manslaughter he saw and where to find it. But he couldn’t stay, he needed to keep looking. 

He crossed the alley, entered a new one, and a new one, and a new one. It felt like it was a never-ending cycle. Jaime was hoping that he was wrong… that Bart was _fine_. That after all this he’d go home and see him standing there and making fun of how wet he’s become. That he was still that annoying, sarcastic shit he’s grown to tolerate… He swallowed, shaking his head and looking up the sky before looking straight forward again. 

He stood still. His toes touching another man’s scrunched up legs. He looked down to see brown tussled hair and a blue familiar sweater, _completely soaked_ , shaking against a wall and not looking up. His skin whiter than normal and his breathing uneven. He crouched down, one knee on the ground and softly touched his shoulder.

“Bart?” his voice quavered. Feeling more than just relieved… he felt his throat closing up again. “Hermano, this isn’t a place to sleep y’know?” He spoke, his laughter shaking. 

Bart slowly moved his head up, his hair covering most of his face. Jaime brushed it away to the sides and back, clearing his face. His eyes were _red_ , his breathing coming in soft hiccups and his skin many shades lighter than his actual skin colour. Jaime cursed, wished he brought his coat along, but moved closer. He somehow knew that Bart had to have seen the murders… and now knowing his history; knowing what he’s escaped from… the scene might’ve remembered him of what he saw eleven years ago. 

Bart was most likely still in shock… 

“Hey… We’re gonna get you safe home okay?” He smiled, but his eyebrows were still frowning, his voice still shaking.

He remained quiet for a while, but then, with the softest voice he’d ever heard coming from the younger man, “You know he’ll kill you too.” He stared at Jaime, his eyes looking desperate and _scared._ “Those people… the gang… they were hired to get rid of those guys if they couldn’t give them my location…” He stuttered, tears filling his eyes. “You’ve _seen_ them, right?” his voice was coming out strangled, like he couldn’t breathe anymore. He looked down, swallowed, and then started shaking his head. “You can’t help me,” he whispered defeatedly. 

“I can… I can and I will, Bart,” he countered. He held his arms, made him look Jaime in the eye. “You’re going to be safe, I promise,” he nodded, giving him a weak smile. “I promise… You’ll be safe.”

Bart’s tears were spilling, mixing with the rain and pouring down his face. He was still shaking his head, banged it against the wall when he looked up. “Why?” he choked out.

“Because you’re my friend, ese… I’m not gonna give up on you.” He tightened his grip and pulled the man up with him. “Police are coming, but we need to get out of here, okay?” he stated, trying to get through Bart. The man nodded, wiping away his tears and following Jaime back to his car. In the distance, they could hear police sirens blaring. He knew they’d be here within a minute or so. Bart led them out the fastest way out of the maze and got them to his car. Jaime opened it and he got in, waited for Bart to do the same before he put his key in the ignition, turned it, revved up the engine and rode off. He didn’t go home immediately, first took a few detours to see if anyone was following them. When he was sure there was no one, he drove to his apartment. Bart got out of the car, opened the garage for him and Jaime drove in. 

He shut the engine off and got his key out of the ignition. He sat still for a second, slowly breathing in before he stepped out. He closed the car door and his hand moved over the roof of his car… silently thinking for a bit before he stepped out of the garage and letting Bart close it. He opened the door and both got in, closing the door behind them and locking it.

“Stay here, I’ll get us some towels,” Jaime coughed, his arm covering his mouth. He padded through the house, grabbed his softest towels from a closet in his room and walked bag, handing one to Bart. He rubbed the towel into his hair, trying to dry that first. “Go take a shower, it’ll warm you up, okay?” but Bart remained silent. Didn’t even look Jaime’s way. He simply nodded, but didn’t even _move_ , hadn’t even opened the towel yet. 

He sighed, throwing his own towel on a cabinet that stood near the door. He grabbed Bart’s towel and opened it. He took a step closer to him and softly rubbed the towel over his head, catching up the dripping water. With one hand, he dabbed the towel to his forehead, cheeks and neck, at least getting rid of the water there. 

“You’re freezing, ese, come on.” He tugged at his arm and walked with him to the bathroom. It didn’t seem like he was in a talking mood, mostly choosing to remain silent and unmoving. He took off his shoes and coat for him, brought them with him to the living room where he put them under the heating and hung his coat up. He walked back, put Bart’s arms in the air and started to get his blue sweater off him, but finding it rather difficult. The fabric was heavy, soaked still, and it was sticking to his skin. He finally got it off, turned around and threw it in his washing bin, deciding that it needed to get into the wash immediately. When he turned back, Bart was shaking heavily. Jaime turned the shower on, letting it become warm. “…You’re gonna do the last part yourself?” he asked, but Bart gave no answer. 

Jaime sighed… he’d probably just stand under the shower too. He was going to unbutton Bart’s jeans before Bart stopped him. He didn’t look him in the eye, but he did mumble a soft ‘I got it’. Jaime nodded and was about to leave, he took one glance back, saw Bart testing the heat of the water and somehow… only now Jaime could see how thin the younger man was. Only now he understood what actual hunger had done to Bart’s body… How one man’s brutal action changed his _entire_ life. 

Jaime stepped out of the shower, closed the door behind him and walked to his own room. He got rid of his wet clothes, strutted through the hallway with only his underwear and grabbed the towel he left there. He dried his entire shoulders, arms and legs, padding back to his room to grab a pair of sweats and another sweater for Bart and setting them aside. He then grabbed his own sweats, didn’t bother with a shirt since he was going to hop in the shower as well. 

Jaime grabbed his electric blanket—his mom had sent it as a gift, knowing how cold Gotham could get—and placed it on the couch for when Bart was done. He figured he needed to get dinner ready and he had no clue when Bart was going to be done. He walked over to his kitchen, shivered when the air there was colder than in his living room, and opened his fridge. He was thinking about red rice with pieces of veggies and chicken. He didn’t feel like going all out, especially not today. 

He grabbed the rice from his cupboard, measured two and a half cups of it and threw that into a pan. He chopped some onion, tomatoes, garlic, sauté and bell pepper and threw it in there. He heated up water in his kettle and mixed that with chicken broth. On another pan he was cooking pieces of chicken, throwing in some turmeric powder and cooking it with onions. He threw the broth with the rice and was going to let it simmer for about twenty minutes. After the chicken was done, he got the pan off the fire and put the lid of the pan on top so it would remain warm. 

By now about twenty minutes had passed. He put the fire for the rice on low and then walked over to the bathroom. He knocked on the door, once, twice and then the door opened, a bunch of steam leaving the room. Bart was standing with only a towel over his waist, his hair still dripping. Jaime stepped away so Bart could get through and then grinned, shaking his head. “There’s a blow-dryer in there, y’know?”

Bart gave a small smile, but padded away to Jaime’s room. “There are clothes for you on my bed, ese!” he yelled after him, before stepping into the shower. He got rid of his sweats and stepped under the shower. He messed around with the taps until warm water hit his face and he could finally feel his body warm up. His breath was coming out with a few stutters, only now feeling like he could get rid of all his raw emotions… of all the fear and uncertainty and anger. For a moment, he just let the warm water wash away everything… and finally, he felt _safe_ again. 

He washed his hair, scrubbed his body and then figured he was done. He turned the water off and grabbed a towel from the pile in his bathroom and dried himself off. He threw the towel in the washing bin, figured he needed to grab his clothes from his room as well before he’d turn it on and then put his sweats on again. He didn’t bother with underwear now, though he knew his mother would kill him for it. 

With one hand still drying his hair, he stepped out of the bathroom and walked to the living room to see Bart curled up in the blanket. He gave a smile and then moved to the kitchen, looked at the clock and put the pan off the fire. He threw his towel on his dining table and figured they could eat in front of the TV instead. He grabbed two plates, scooped up a hefty amount of rice and chicken and grabbed some spoons and forks and then walked towards the living room.

“Up, up, if I spill this I’m blaming you,” he joked, smiling when Bart did as he said. Bart accepted the plate with both his hands and scooted over so Jaime had enough room as well. Jaime grabbed the remote control and turned the TV on, choosing a nice channel to look at. 

“No knives?” Bart asked, looking at the TV as well.

Jaime scoffed, “Knives for rice? _Savage_.” Bart rolled his eyes, gave him a small push, but smiled with him. They ate their meal in silence, and after they were done, they didn’t bother cleaning the plates up and washing them. Jaime kept sitting on his couch, his arm outstretched and Bart leaning on his shoulder. They were looking at a documentary about how Persian carpets were made, it seemed like the safest option to Jaime. Bart had somehow gotten closer to him, probably still feeling cold, or just needing comfort. Either way, Jaime didn’t mind at all. Found himself playing with his hair at a given point, which he found amusing even to himself. His hair was hella soft though and he liked feeling it along his fingers. 

It was only at the end of the documentary that Jaime found out Bart’s been asleep. He removed his hand from his hair and stood up from the couch, laying Bart down and putting the blanker over him again. He grabbed the plates and walked to the kitchen, started to clean his mess up and putting the leftovers in a small container and putting that in the fridge. He grabbed his towel from the dining table, grabbed his wet clothes from his room and then walked to the bathroom, throwing everything in the washing machine and turning it on.

Only after he was done with all his chores did he decide to go to bed. He needed it a lot more than he though, not having slept the day before. 

He lied down on his bed, put the blankets over him and within seconds he could feel himself drift off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick PSA;
> 
> I know that Bart's actual grandfather is Thaddeus Thawne, (The president, not the clone.) but to make the story a bit more interesting, I changed it up a bit ^^; 
> 
> Liked it, hated it or a few tips? Feel free to leave a comment!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I’m back again! 
> 
> Before we start, I’d like to thank you all so much for all the sweet comments! It truly made my day and it motivated me to finish this a hell of a lot sooner than I planned! ^^
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy!

“I can’t believe you got sick,” Bart huffed, throwing another blanket over Jaime and tucking him in so he couldn’t escape. _Again._ “God, you’re really not from around here…” he panted, wiping away the sweat on his forehead.

Jaime coughed, “no, I have to go to work.” He tried to get up again, throwing away the second blanket and trying to worm himself out of the first one, but Bart threw the blanket over him again.

“Will you stop struggling?” he sighed, “you’re only going to feel worse if you go. Just lie down and sweat it out okay?” He tried to negotiate at this point, since nothing worked to keep this idiot from staying in and taking a sick-leave. “I’m texting Murphy to say you’re not coming.” He grabbed Jaime’s phone which was on the nightstand and started to type on it. 

It had been a day or two since they came back from those back alleys. Somehow Jaime had gotten sick, probably from the cold weather and the rain and the fact that he wasn’t wearing a _fucking coat_. Truly, it gave Bart a headache to see him be so stubborn. He threw the phone back on Jaime’s bed and then walked to the kitchen. He was planning on making soup, but they were out of ingredients. There wasn’t any medicine around either, so he needed to go out and pick up some… Like hell Jaime would let him go out though.

Now that he knew who was after him, he didn’t let Bart go out for any reason. There was always that underlying fear that maybe his grandfather would find him, but… that never stopped him from going outside. He felt like a Disney princess locked up in a cheap ass tower. That was on ground floor.

_Then again, pretty sure Jaime’s feeling the same way at this point._

He didn’t go outside out of respect for Jaime—and the fear of being brutally murdered, but with no food in the fridge and no medicine in the medicine cabinet… well, Bart didn’t have much choice left. Though he couldn’t just _leave_ , Jaime would definitely follow him or escort him. He needed him to... go to sleep for a while. It’d do him good anyway.

He walked over to the bathroom, found a small purple bowl and filled that with lukewarm water. He found a washcloth and took that with him to Jaime’s room where the man was halfway out of his bed.

“Oh for God’s sake,” Bart grumbled, already feeling irritated. He put the bowl and washcloth on the ground, walked over to Jaime’s side of the bed and all he had to do was give him a small push before he collapsed back on it. “Really?” He grabbed the bowl and put it on the nightstand, shaking his head. He’s so stubborn. He sat on the edge of the bed and wet the cloth, wringing all the water out of it before he softly wiped the sweat on Jaime’s forehead and neck away. 

Jaime closed his eyes, giving a soft sigh. Even though he felt like he was going to melt and freeze to death at the same time, he really liked feeling that against his skin. For a moment, he didn’t want to get out of bed anymore and go to work. He felt the warm fabric against his collarbones, his shoulders and then back at his neck before the warm feeling left him. He heard the water swishing around and then it was back.

Bart watched closely as Jaime’s body finally started relaxing. His breathing becoming a bit softer. He knew he wasn’t asleep though, just finally not struggling anymore. He brought the cloth back to the bowl, wet it again and then wrung out all the excess water. “Where are you actually from?” Bart asked, then starting with his arms.

Jaime gave a soft grin, opening his eyes half way and looking at him. “Seems like you didn’t do _all_ your homework, ese,” he breathed softly.

Bart rolled his eyes, “Of course I didn’t, there’s a thing called ‘privacy,’ you know?” 

“Didn’t think you of all people would know what that was,” he joked, sarcasm practically dripping off it. 

“Ha-ha,” he commented, wetting his hand and flicking the droplets towards Jaime. “I’m not _that_ bad,” he said, feeling a bit deflated.

Jaime hummed, stared a bit at the ceiling as his eyelids were growing heavier. “El Paso,” he answered, “in Texas.”

Bart smiled and wet the cloth again, this time moving a bit closer to Jaime. He put his knees over the edge of the bed, started with softly wiping at his chest. “That’s quite a distance from here,” he commented. “Wouldn’t make much sense to send a copper all away from there for just a case.”

Jaime sighed a bit, enjoying the feeling, but then opened his eyes, stared at Bart with a guilty face. “I’m not a suspect here, ese,” he tried to laugh off. 

Bart stopped his arm from moving, let it stay on the middle of his chest as he changed his sitting position a bit, putting a little pressure on Jaime’s chest. Jaime breathed out, kept staring at Bart, waiting for him to say something.

“They usually don’t give officers, people who still have to choose their specialisation and career path, such a huge case,” he replied, moving down his chest and reaching his belly. He never noticed until now how muscled he actually was, which was a huge contrast with how Bart looked like at the moment. He started to wipe in rather slow strokes, thinking about what he was going to say next. “…Unless, of course, if they plan to become a detective. Then they have to take eighteen months’ worth of investigatory work to rank up.”

Jaime laughed, staring back at the ceiling, “Haha, seems like you got m—“

“Which means that after this case you’ll go back.” Bart’s movements stilled. His eyes locked with Jaime’s for a second before he wet the cloth again, moved closer to him and started with his sides this time. “Right?” His knees were now touching Jaime’s skin

Jaime swallowed, thought about it… It was true, eventually he’d have to leave Gotham and go back home. But… “That’s a long time from now, Hermano.” 

Bart hummed, acknowledging what he said. “Time flies, though,” he countered softly. “Turn over, I need to do your back.” Jaime turned around, groaning as he had to move his entire body and then flopped over on his belly, putting his hands under his pillow. For a moment Bart just stared, seeing tan skin, and trained muscle and… “Is this from protecting your sister?” he asked, his hands moving over the scar between his shoulder blades.

“Sí—Yeah,” he looked over his shoulder, saw Bart going into the bowl again and then the cloth was on his back. It felt… really good. Made him think of the last time he got a massage, which was _years_ ago at that point. 

“Does it still hurt?” he asked again, “you know, like phantom pains and stuff.”

“No. …Well, only on the bad days, I suppose,” he mumbled, his face stuffed back into his pillow. “Are we playing twenty questions?”

Bart chuckled, shaking his head and making long swipes on his entire back. “Maybe we are. Question one; why the hell are you so tense?” he emphasised as he pushed a bit harder on his lower back, feeling the muscle not budge. 

“’cuz it’s been a while since I relaxed,” he answered, looking over his back again. “You’re free to give me a massage though,” he grinned, seeing Bart roll his eyes and kept his arm moving over his back. “My turn, have you ever conned Perez from the GCPD?”

Bart stopped his movements and leaned back, sat straight on his knees again. “That’s… oddly specific?” He moved one eyebrow up, and then scrunched his eyes a bit. “Why’d you ask that?”

“You can ask that after you answer my question,” he coughed into his pillow.

“I think a few times, it was always easy getting away with it when it was him,” he explained, wetting the cloth again. “Which is also the reason why whenever he sees me, he finds a stupid reason to arrest me,” he sighed. “Guess it’s my own fault though,” he chuckled as he shook his head. 

Jaime hummed, thinking about it. “I asked cuz’ he seemed to be one of the few who wants you behind bars,” he groaned as Bart pressed a bit harder at his shoulder blades. “You definitely pissed him off.”

Bart laughed, agreeing with him. Oh, the shit he pulled on Perez, it was worth the hell that kept coming over him. His face was _hilarious_. “Okay… When’s the last time you had a girlfriend, officer Reyes?” he asked as he got closer again, this time throwing the cloth back in the bowl and getting his hands on his shoulders, kneading the tense muscle there. His skin still felt like it was overheating, but that’d be okay in a while… he hoped.

Jaime groaned, stuffed his face in the pillows. “Gawd,” his voice came out muffled. “Uhm… like three years ago? Maybe… how ‘bout you?”

Bart shook his head, “Never had one, though I did have a few close friends back in the day.”

“Don’t swing that way?” he asked.

“I don’t really care when it comes to gender,” Bart shrugged. “I’m just happy to have someone…” He put his thumbs on Jaime’s neck, softly pressed and moves them down, following the muscle there. “You?”

Jaime would shrug if his muscles didn’t feel like melting into the bed. “I had encounters with both men and women,” he answered. “Why are you being so nice?”

Bart laughed, if only he knew. “Maybe I want to repay this one officer for letting me stay at his apartment?”

“You can’t answer a question with another question, ese, that’s cheating,” he mumbled dryly as he looked back to see Bart. “Let me rephrase; why are you doing this?”

Bart’s hands stilled, he gave him a smile like there was nothing going on. “Don’t like it?”

Jaime rolled his eyes, “It feels heavenly, but that’s not why you’re doing it, hermano.” He stretched out his arms and rolled his neck a bit before he moved, turned around, and pulled himself up in a sitting position. “You’ve been trying all day to get me to sleep, meanwhile the fridge’s empty and I _know_ for a fact that I don’t have cold medicine lying around.”

“Busted,” Bart sang, chuckling a bit. “When did ya find out?”

“When you stopped trying to murder me for getting out of bed.”

“Ah, I should’ve made the transition from murderous rage to sexy massage more natural,” Bart said as he flicked his fingers, shaking his head. “Ah well, lesson for next time. I’m going out!”

Bart tried to stand up, but Jaime grabbed him by his sleeve and threw him back on the bed, gripping him at his arm. “Like hell you are, you _know_ why you have to stay in,” he frowned. “There’s no way you’re going out without me, ese.” He gripped harder, saw Bart flinch in the process.

“You’re sick and it’s still raining,” he countered, frowning as well now. “There’s a corner store only three streets down the road!” Bart tried to get his arm free, it was starting to _hurt_. But it looked like Jaime was only getting more protective.

His grip tightened even more on Bart’s arm, “And a murderous serial killer on the loose!” he said, his voice clearly raised.

“You think I don’t know that?” he started to yell back, feeling more than just a bit agitated at this point. “I’ve been hiding the majority of my life, if you think I’m gonna get caught on my way to a fucking corner store you’re out of your goddamn mind, _officer_.” He pulled himself free and stood up, stomping over to the hallway to grab his jacket and shoes, and then left the house in a hurry. 

_Freaking stubborn son of a… Aaahrgh!_

God, he annoyed him sometimes… 

Bart put his hood on, covering his head from the rain as he started walking towards the store. As he was walking through the pouring, ice cold rain he thought to himself; _‘I could’ve taken the car.’_ Of course that thought was quickly derailed as his common sense and dignity started to flood back in, saying he wouldn’t want to be found dead _near_ that thing. 

_Who even drives a blue beetle anymore…_

He understood why Jaime was concerned… But that didn’t mean Jaime should take everything on by himself. That’s what pissed him off so much, this dude thinking he could take the world on. News flash, no one could. Not without a bit of help. That’s all Bart wanted to do, to help him. It annoyed him so much that Jaime just didn’t want to _accept_ that. He rubbed over the place where Jaime had held him… _It hurt_. More than Bart liked to admit…

He huffed and puffed, stomping over to the store until he finally got in. He greeted the man at the cashier, talked a bit about the horrid weather and then grabbed a shopping basket. He first started with fruits and vegetables, moved over to meats, dairies, some snacks… Basically everything Jaime didn’t have at home, because the fridge was literally _empty._

As he was walking through the aisles, grabbing everything he thought they’d might need, he saw a teen anxiously looking around him. Bart stopped walking and simply stared at the young man, scrunching his eyes a bit. He saw him grab a can of beans and hide it in his jacket, acting like nothing happened, but looking guilty as fuck for just _standing_ there.

“Fucking amateur,” Bart grumbled, rolling his eyes. But then again, that had been him at one point in his life. He didn’t have any money, couldn’t get jobs at the age of _twelve_ … he had no other choice but to steal food. He’d get caught and he’d get in trouble, but he was never as frightened as the very first time he was caught by an officer who threatened to call his legal guardian. He remembered begging the man not to do it, explaining his story…

And the man looked it up, because he just couldn’t believe it. When he had seen enough evidence, he let him go. Didn’t help him get into the system, didn’t help him to find a place to live, just let him go and pretended Bart had never been there. This man was also the one who taught him how to steal stuff at supermarkets without getting noticed.

Yeah, Murphy has been there for all of the new kids in town. 

Bart sighed. God, he didn’t want to do this… “Hey kid, if you’re gonna steal something, at least try not to look so constipated while doing it,” Bart grimaced. The kid’s eyes grew comically big and started stuttering, trying to deny everything. “Stop the act, man… Listen, I’m gonna distract the cashier, you grab more than just a can of beans and get out of here.”

The kid looked shocked at first, but then nodded. He still looked frightened, but the thought of getting more food probably motivated him. At least, that’s what Bart liked to think. Bart grabbed a random piece of fish from the freezer and as promised walked over to the cashier. “I’m sorry, I just had a small question—“ he started to talk to the old man, asking about how ‘fresh’ and ‘organic’ the fish was. Apparently he fished it himself that morning. It’s eyes already looked stale though and it even smelled old… no way this was remotely fresh. 

In the meanwhile the kid did as he was told. He saw him grab bread, soup, different sorts of cans stuffed into his backpack and even milk. As he walked out, he looked over at Bart, giving him a small nod and then walked out of the store. Bart quickly wrapped the conversation up, gave him an excuse that he was looking for something else and put the old thing back into the freezer. He grabbed the ingredients he actually needed and eventually found the small medicine corner where he found cold medicine and other medication they’d might need. He put it into his basket and then walked back, smiling at the man as he put everything into plastic bags for him.

He paid in cash and thanked him, walking back into the rain and slowly making his way back home. When he got back to Jaime’s apartment complex, he fished his keys out of his pocket and opened the door. He then took his shoes and coat off and walked into the house. All the lights were off, making Bart think that Jaime was finally sleeping. He turned the lights on for the living room and kitchen—which was basically just one room--and saw Jaime sitting on the couch.

“Why does it always feel like I’m going back three steps every time you call me ‘ _officer_ ’?” Jaime commented. 

Bart ignored it, instead walked to the kitchen and put the plastic bags on the table. “Still not sleeping?” he observed. He grabbed the pieces of fruit first, tried to gather them in his arms as he walked over to the fridge.

“How am I supposed to sleep when I don’t know if you’re safe?” 

“It shouldn’t matter—“

“Of course it matters!” he yelled, slamming his hands on the table. “I promised you, didn’t I?”

Bart startled, dropping the pieces of fruit on the ground. “’the hell, Jaime—“ Bart frowned, kneeling down the grab the them. 

Jaime sighed, padding over to Bart to pick up some of it that rolled under the dining table. “I promised to help you and keep you safe, Bart,” he said softly this time. 

“I’m perfectly capable of doing that myself.”

“Look—Listen… I _know_ you are, ese. I _know_ , but that doesn’t mean I don’t get concerned or that I’m not scared for you,” he said, standing up and putting the fruit on the table. “It’d kill me knowing that something happened to you… because I didn’t— _couldn’t_ protect you.”

Bart stayed quiet, not knowing what to say. He pulled the fridge open from his seated position and dumped everything in the fruit basket there. He closed the door and stood up, leaning against the fridge and crossing his arms, choosing to stare at his feet instead of Jaime. “I get that. I’m not stupid,” he sighed. “But you can’t just put this kind of responsibility on yourself… If you’re sick, or if you’re stuck with something then I want to help you too, you know?” 

“You don’t have to help me.”

“But I’m already doing it, aren’t I?” he argued back. He turned his gaze over at Jaime, looking him square in the face. “Jaime, if you really consider us to be friends, then you gotta accept the fact that I’m gonna help you, whether you like it or not.”

Jaime scoffed, but then smiled. Feeling quite sorry for himself… for _themselves_. “You make no sense, you know that?”

“Neither do you,” he huffed back, scrunching up an eyebrow and feeling his lips lift at the corners of his mouth. “Is this the part where we make compromises?” 

Jaime rolled his eyes, coughed into his arms, tried not to empty the contents of his stomach and then sat on the dining table. “I’d rather it be the part where you give me that cold medicine,” he mumbled, rubbing over his sore throat with his hand. 

“Oh, so _now_ you do want it?” Bart grinned, throwing over the medicine. He moved to the cabinet, grabbed a glass and filled it at the faucet, giving it to Jaime.

Jaime caught the bottle with his other hand and popped the lid open, grabbing two pills and throwing them in his mouth. He gladly accepted the glass of water and drank it down in one go. “Thanks,” he panted. “And I’ve always wanted it, I just didn’t want you to—you know, _die_ ,” he laughed, shaking his head.

“Well… I’m here. Hope ya didn’t miss me too much,” he grinned.

“I don’t have to miss you if you just stay in,” he mumbled into thin air as he got back to the floor and padded to his room, feeling exhausted. 

“So, you did miss me!” Bart laughed. He smiled and went back to the plastic bags on the dining table, unpacking them and preparing the ingredients for homemade chicken soup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! ^^
> 
> Hated it, liked it or some general tips? Feel free to leave a comment!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it's been a while!
> 
> Sorry it has taken so long. I've been going through a rough patch in the past few weeks. It's still not going great in school and I just went through a breakup, so I haven't quite been in a writing mood lately. 
> 
> But I got this, so it's something. I hope you enjoy!

Jaime was still sick. It had been a few days since and he still was not getting any better. If anything, Bart was sure he got worse. He’d been close to calling a doctor multiple times now, but Jaime always stopped him by saying that no one else could know of his location. It was exasperating to say the least, but Bart held on. He had changed the covers of the bed at least three times by now, they were literally drenched with sweat, which caused Bart to worry only more. 

“I feel like shit,” Jaime coughed, lying on his side and staring into the blue bucket that was strategically put next to his bed. 

Bart grimaced, “You look like it too.” He put his hand on Jaime’s forehead and cheeks, his temperature hadn’t gone down…

Jaime sighed, “Dare to take away those hands, Allen,” he tried to grin, but was interrupted by his coughing. He held Bart’s wrist, put his hand back on his forehead and he closed his eyes. “Are they always so cold?”

“That’s ‘cause the heating isn’t working,” Bart mumbled, “I think it’s broken or something… or you didn’t pay this month’s fixed costs.” He shrugged, didn’t really care to begin with. It wasn’t even _that_ bad. Though his toes did feel like they were gonna fall off any moment now. 

“You know you can sit on the bed right?” Jaime asked, looking at Bart who was crouching next to the blue bucket. “Afraid you’ll get sick, ese?”

“I’ve lived the majority of my life in the streets of Gotham. Pretty sure I’m immune to diseases at this point,” he snorted, shaking his head. But he did as Jaime indirectly asked of him and sat at the foot of his bed. He looked at Jaime who was grinning as well. “I’m gonna do a few more chores, I think. You want something? Orange juice or….”

Jaime groaned, “Please no. No more orange juice…” he begged, stuffing his face into the pillows. “You’ve made enough of the juice, pretty soon there aren’t going to be any oranges left, hermano!”

Bart shoved at Jaime’s legs, “It’s good for you, Vitamin C-stuff, right?” he laughed. 

He rolled his eyes and turned around, sitting up so he could stare at Bart and already feeling like he was going to puke from the action alone. “And you don’t need to do any chores… you’ve done them all. Literally. Everything. At least twice, Allen,” Jaime dryly commented, crossing his arms so he could hold his stomach. 

Bart had been cleaning the apartment, taking care of Jaime as best he could, making dinner, and doing all the chores he could do while staying in. He’d often slump on the couch and listen to the loud coughing within the other room, he usually figured he should make orange juice or something. Which at this point had become some sort of sick punishment to Jaime. _He never asked for orange juice, get away with that hellish glass of fruity liquid_. Bart would often feel heavy in his legs, exhausted from all the chores, but he’d still do it. He had to, for being a complete freeloader and all.

“I’ve been thinking about what might’ve caused your cold,” Bart started, completely ignoring Jaime’s last remark. He was playing with the thin blanket, looking at the worn out edges of it. “At first I thought it was just the rain…. But maybe it was stress from the case… _cases_ if you include my own bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit, ese,” Jaime disagreed. He shoved his blanket off and sat crisscrossed, one arm still holding his stomach. 

Bart leaned off the bed, grabbed the blue bucket and put it in front of him. “What I’m trying to say… You don’t really look like the kind of person to take days off or go on vacation when you’re in the middle of a case,” Bart continues, letting the blanket go and imitating Jaime’s crisscrossed position. “Maybe it’s a good thing you got sick?” he offered, looking at Jaime with hopeful eyes.

Jaime was about to answer when another coughing fit got the best of him and doubled over into the bucket, spitting out whatever was left from that morning’s breakfast. “If I don’t die from it first,” Jaime panted, feeling another wave come up and shoving his face back into the bucket. 

Bart leaned forward, rubbed a bit over Jaime’s back, not really knowing what to do in such situations. He stood up and left the room feeling a bit awkward and could hear Jaime chant from his room _‘No orange juice!’_ which was followed by what Bart assumed was another wave of vomit. He walked to the living room and grabbed Jaime’s laptop, he’d been using it for the past few days now. They both got sick—Jaime even sicker—from watching TV all the time. 

He’d been looking into all sorts of stuff to get rid of colds and fevers, the ice-bath was starting to sound appealing in Bart’s mind, but Jaime heavily disagreed. _To each their own I suppose…_

He grabbed the laptop and walked back to Jaime’s room. He gently put the laptop on the bed and flopped onto it himself, making Jaime bounce in the air and causing him to dry heave. 

“Sorry,” Bart grimaced. He moved into a comfortable position and was lying down on his stomach, opening the laptop and typing Jaime’s password in.

Jaime blankly stared, didn’t even bother to ask how he knew. He moved out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom, probably to get rid of the bucket’s contents. Then again, maybe he wanted a cold shower. Who knew.

Bart still needed to know what happened with the entire ‘Murder Alley’ situation. That’s what the coppers were calling it at the GCPD. In the news it was stated that it was a gang war… it was everything but that. He knew what his grandfather was doing… he’s playing a game with him. That much he was certain of. 

“You think he knows where you are?” 

Bart turned around and saw Jaime standing at the door. He walked into his room and sat next to him, looking at the screen. “Did you brush your teeth?” Bart asked, expecting to smell bile. Jaime nodded, nudged him to start talking. He sighed, “I don’t think so… But I don’t think that’s really important to him.”

“He’s killed about eight men, what makes you think that?”

Bart looked at the screen, was scanning the evidence list on there and then turned to Jaime. “Those men at Bennies… they could’ve just ‘given’ me to him,” he started to explain, “they could’ve just asked me to meet them at the same time my grandfa— _Eobard_ was there.”

Jaime moved his legs onto the bed, sat more comfortably and put his hands behind him, leaning onto them. “You think he’s messing with you?”

“Yes. He’s trying to… scare me, I guess? 

Jaime hummed, stared at the ceiling and then back at Bart. He sat back straight and moved his hands back to his lap. “My theory is that those guys at Bennies were only killed to show you what he’s capable of.”

Bart shook his head. “Eobard doesn’t want me in person, which is what those men were trying to give him and what ultimately killed them. He wanted a location to taunt me more. A stay of execution, if anything.”

Jaime frowned. That was just… sick. How could anyone do that…? It baffled him knowing that there were people like that breathing the same damn air as he was. “But why? What’s he getting out of it all?”

Bart scoffed, rolling his eyes. “If you’re looking for a motive, keep looking. There ain’t one, Jaime.”

Somehow he refused to believe that. _He didn’t want to believe it_. It couldn’t be that a person was so vile and malicious. He’d met his fair share of crazy ass people and psychopaths… but to go this far, he just couldn’t possibly fathom that. 

“You think they know I’m involved with the murders?” 

Jaime sighed. “No. But they do know that I knew something, which caused me to be there at the aftermath of the scene.”

Bart moved his knees under him, sat up straight on them and looked at Jaime. “Are you gonna tell them?”

Jaime stayed quiet. Of course he had to. But by telling that he wasn’t sure what was going to happen for Bart. “I don’t know, ese. The top priority for now is just finding that gang. Maybe they had other motives too…” he drawled out, scratching his head and feeling so frustrated. Bart hummed, putting the laptop in his lap and looking through all the other folders. “Ese, most of that stuff is confidential— _hell_ , everything is.”

“Just checking how far you are with the Lux case,” he brushed off, continuing to scroll through the file.

“We found a new suspect, Vic Wilbur. He’s a dealer,” he explained.

“Just a pawn then—Wait. Did you just say _Vic Wilbur_?”

“You know him?”

Bart coughed, rubbed at his throat, “Ah-em, I met him a few times, not anything worth mentioning,” he played off. He closed the laptop and put it on the nightstand. He made Jaime sit up by shooing him off the bed and then removed the covers, he then grabbed Jaime’s arm and made him sit and lie down on the bed. “But none of that’s important. You’re still sick,” he chided. “If your temperature doesn’t go down I _will_ call doctor Thompkins, Jaime. I’m not joking,” he warned, throwing the covers over him.

“ _Lo siento, mamá_. I’ll magically heal faster, I promise,” Jaime said, imitating the voice of an eight-year-old. 

“Did not know your voice could get that high…”

“It’s a gift and a curse,” Jaime shrugged. He lay down more comfortably on his side and started closing his eyes. 

* 

Once Bart was sure that Jaime was fast asleep he grabbed his keys, Jaime’s phone and his coat. He walked outside and locked the door behind him, already walking in the direction of Crime Alley. He needed to find out where Vic was. Thing is, he knew where his buddies were, but Vic himself was a mystery to everyone. He’d usually meet up with one particular person, a junkie friend of his. Bart had seen them walk their routines thousands of times by now. 

He couldn’t just follow this junkie dude though. He was highly unpredictable and dangerous to say the least. He remembered hearing that he stabbed a young lady when she asked for directions. So Bart had another trick up his sleeve. Still dangerous, still a risk of getting the stabby-stab from a psycho, but still worth trying out. 

He walked through many alleys and streets until he finally came across what looked like an abandoned company building. But one step inside claimed the complete opposite. Everywhere were people, sleeping on the ground, trading goods, eating food, sharing blankets. The poorest of the poor usually came here. It was a popular spot to trade illegal items here too. Bart had many memories of this place, whenever he couldn’t get a place to sleep he’d usually end up here. 

It wasn’t all too bad, but it wasn’t something you could call home. 

He looked around, he was looking for a particular person first before he’d try his insane plan. There used to be someone a bit older than him around here. Usually was here to look for his dead friend. That was literally what he told people, _‘Oh, I’m looking for my dead friend.’_ He was the strangest, but rather most helpful person around here. Though Bart was sure he was from Star City and not Gotham. He didn’t have the accent.

After scanning the entire place down he finally found a familiar redhead standing in a corner, draping a blanket over an old lady. 

“Roy!” Bart jogged over to him and the man turned around sighing when he saw him.

“What do you want this time, Bart?”

Bart grinned, “I need a GPS tracker.” He put his hands into his pockets and mumbled, “kinda for free.”

Roy looked at him, scrunching his eyes, “Did you just say free?” he barked, clearly pissed by seeing Bart’s appearance alone. “You disappear for _weeks_ and then you try to get shit for free?”

He shrugged, dropping the fake-grin and rubbing his neck. “Listen, I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important. I’m kinda in a bit of a pinch here…”

Roy rolled his eyes. “When are you not?”

“Remember when I told you I was running from someone?” That seemed to spike Roy’s attention. He crossed his arms and frowned, gave him a s mall nod. “Well, let’s just say I’ve got him, Penguin, a gang, and the police after me.”

For a moment Roy was just perplexed. He shook his head a few times, trying to snap himself out of oblivion. “I thought you were good with the cops?”

“I am, as long as I help them. If I don’t, I get a one-way ticket to jail.” Bart combes his hair back with his hand and gave out a long sigh. 

“It’d keep you safe from that psycho dude though?” Roy offered, clearly joking as he gave out a small snort.

Bart rolled his eyes, “I just need your help okay? After this case I’m leaving Gotham, so I could need all the help I could get. I wanna get outta here fast.”

Roy sighed and walked over to his bags. He opened one and it was _filled_ with all kinds of different tools and components. He grabbed a small box and walked back, handing it to Bart. “You take this chip,” he started, as he opened the box and got the chip out, “and put it on the target. You download the special program on your laptop with this,” he said, showing a small cd in his hands. “And tadaa, you’ve got his location.”

“Thanks Roy, I’ll pay you back if I’m not dead by then,” he grinned, grabbing the box and putting it inside of his pocket. 

“So, when you gonna do it?”

“Not today, I wasn’t supposed to get out. He’s hot on my heels.” 

Roy hissed, “Try not to die, Allen. You’re one of the few customers that actually keeps his word when he says he’ll pay.”

Bart laughed and shook his head. He thanked him again and then started to make his way home. He needed to be sure that Jaime wouldn’t find out that he was out. He didn’t need more worry in his life right now. 

*

When Bart finally got home, he took off his coat, hung it up and went straight to the shower. After about twenty minutes he got out, blow-dried his hair and then walked over to Jaime’s room. He was still soundly sleeping. He walked inside of the room and gently put the back of his hand against Jaime’s forehead. Though he did feel warm, it wasn’t as much as before. 

Bart felt so relieved, he thought he would actually need to call a doctor and expect the worst. He walked out of Jaime’s room and walked over to the kitchen, starting to prepare dinner as if he had never left the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note;  
> On the 24th of April I will go to England to work for 12 weeks. I'm not sure if I'll bring my laptop, so I'm not sure if I'll be able to update during that time. 
> 
> We'll see, I guess.
> 
> Liked it, hated it, or some general tips? Feel free to let me know!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloo, I’m back!
> 
> I’m sorry it took so long to post another chapter. I’ve been having a couple of rough months, but it’s going so much better now! I’m done with my internships and I passed my most important portfolio, which means I now have a chance at passing this year! There’s still some hope for me after all xD
> 
> This chapter might not be as good as the others. I haven’t quite been practising my writing in a while, that’s why it might seem a bit off? Well, anyway, I sincerely hope you’ll enjoy it!
> 
> Thank you all for being so patient and for all the sweet comments. You’re all so very dear to me, kudos to you <3

> Unknown Area.  
>  November 11, 16:26 P.M.

When Bart started this day he’d never expected to end up tied to a chair, afraid he’d never get out of this alive. It simply never came to his mind that he’d be in a musty basement—god knows where—getting beat up by two lowlife goons. His standards must have risen in the duration of knowing Jaime. That’s about the only good news he’s got.

The bad news? Oh, you know. Death.

Bart was staring at one of the goons who was flicking his wrist up and down and wincing. “Jeez, kid. Your face is harder than I thought,” he groaned, hissing as he looked at his bleeding knuckles.

Bart spit out the blood in his mouth, gave them a smile that was tainted red. “Thanks, I’ve been drinking my milk,” he huffs, panting. 

The man laughed, was even grinning as he put his hands to his side and cocked his head. “You sure are a funny guy,” the man spoke, grabbing a wooden baseball bat. “Mister Penguin doesn’t like funny guys.” 

He swung the bat and Bart could feel his stomach cramping up, wanting to throw out his breakfast and lunch immediately. He lurched forward, coughing and trying to remember that breathing was a necessity if he wanted to get through this. That is, if these no-brainers would let him get out of this. Bart could feel tears pricking under his eyes, his vision getting all blurry. God, he did not like this day.

“Tell him I don’t care,” Bart managed to breathe out, scrunching up his eyes and wincing from the pain. 

The man laughed again and Bart knew that he was not gonna like what was about to happen next. He tried to think about how in the world he got into this mess, thinking that some reflecting would make this experience a hell of a lot easier. And if not, then at least it would help pass the time.

The man grabbed an iron bar from off the table—which was littered with all kinds of tools and torture devices—and Bart knew he’d need a daydream right about now.

> Thompkins’ Clinic  
>  November 11, 10:32 A.M.

Jaime was staring at the monotone white ceiling, laying on his back and waiting. He had to take his shirt off and was trying not to shiver because of the cold air. He stared around the room; some advertisements and brochures on pregnancy or how to deal with certain symptoms, a skeleton in the far corner, a scale near the wall, a whole lot of books just behind the doctor’s desk…

After another disagreement with Bart, the conman had contacted Murphy. Told him he was just passing by and found him in real bad condition. Bart then left the house and Murphy showed up, brought him to doctor Thompkins immediately. You could say that Jaime was more than just a bit angry.

It was just a damn cold, he didn’t need to be here and waste his time away in this cold room, waiting for some damn results that are gonna be meaningless anyways, because there’s nothing to worry about. Jaime was sure of that. He didn’t feel bad, just a bit tipsy, he thought. Doctor Thompkins had taken some blood samples off him, to test a few things she said. It’d take about two hours to get the results in, but she prohibited him from going out. Jaime had a faint idea how Bart must’ve been feeling this entire time. _It sucked._

He crossed his arms over his chest, tried to keep some of the warmth there. Every time he moved he could hear the paper on the seat crackle, it was annoying to say the least. He sighed, this was not how he imagined spending the day. Now Bart was.. god knows where… Knowing him he’d probably escape death by an inch. If he’s lucky.

Jaime had thought about it.. about this.. keeping Bart in all the damn time. He knew that one day he’d probably snap. He wasn’t the kind of person to just patiently wait. He needed to move, to do something. Jaime knew he was this kind of man, yet he still tried to keep him safe near him. Stuck, in one spot. He knew… should have known that Bart would go out eventually. If he hadn’t done it already. He couldn’t quite get him right. There were still many things that Bart didn’t tell Jaime, like how he lived on the streets and how he survived. Why he never looked for help, one way or another. Bart was something else, and though he means everything well, Jaime can’t help but to feel concerned. Overprotective, well, maybe. He couldn’t deny the fact that he’s been like a mother hen these past few weeks. Guess he smothered the poor kid too much and now he’s running again.

He only hoped he’d come back safe.

> Gotham Barista.  
>  November 11, 10:58 A.M.

“Getting him to see a damn doctor was near impossible! You had to come and help!” Bart groaned exasperatedly through the phone. He was standing in a café near the doctor’s practice, drinking a cup of coffee while holding an unlit cigarette between his two fingers. He listened to the other man speaking on the phone before he answered back, “Where I’ve been doesn’t concern you, Murph. Stay outta it,” he grumbled.

After seeing no improvement on Jaime’s state, Bart had called Murphy to bring him to a doctor. He tried to bring him himself, but no, Jaime just had to play difficult again. Sometimes Bart just felt like murdering him in his sleep, doesn’t matter how good of a guy he is. He sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose and listened to Murphy.

_“All I’m saying is that you need to play it safe. I know you’re after something, I’ve known you for some time, kiddo.”_

“You know me too well, old man,” Bart snorted. He put his cup down and looked at the time on the clock. It was about eleven o’clock in the morning now. He grabbed his dark green coat, wore it over his borrowed dark red hoodie and left a couple of dollar bills on the table. “Remember our dear old Viccy?” He started, standing up from his seat and grabbing a lighter out of his pocket as he walked outside.

 _“Ya mean the drug-trading, wife-beating, child-kidnapping, fucking bastard that is our suspect?”_ the man started, his voice getting harsher with each word. _“Known him for years,”_ he sniggered.

Bart rolled his eyes, couldn’t stop the edges of his lips to curl up. He put the cigarette between his lips and lit it, taking a long drag and then slowly breathing the smoke out. “Well, he seems to disappear a lot these days, doesn’t he?” Bart hummed, taking another drag, looking around him to see if no one was watching him. “But I have a plan to pinpoint the bastard’s location. Gonna do it today too,” he said, exhaling and then looking at the doctor’s practice. “Don’t tell Jaime, he’ll flip.”

 _“He’s got every right to do so, it’s a dangerous plan, kid. Ya sure you’re up for this?”_ Murphy spoke, his voice actually sounding a bit concerned.

Bart grinned, “Don’t grow senile on me, old man. We both know that I got this, it ain’t the first time.” Bart looked at his cigarette, saw that there was barely anything left. He threw it on the ground and smashed it with his shoe, making sure that it wouldn’t set anything on fire. “Plus, we both know who taught me,” he exhaled again, the nostalgia making him smile.

 _“Just try not to die okay? Promise me that?”_ Murphy tried again.

“Ahw, gonna miss me when I’m gone?” Bart joked in a sing-sang tone. “I’ll miss you too babe, I’ll save a seat in hell for ya,” he chuckled.

 _“It better be the throne, Allen,”_ he laughed, then hung up.

Bart put the phone back into his pocket and grabbed the chip. He looked at it, the greenish gold thing was about as small as the top of his pinkie. He sighed, worrying if this really was going to work. It had to, since there wasn’t really a plan B except for to wait things out. And Bart had done enough of that.

He took one last glance at the doctor’s practice and then started walking towards Crime Alley. Since he wasn’t able to find Vic Wilbur—apparently the dude is like a damn magician, disappearing all the time—he had no other choice but to target one of his friends. It should be easy if he was careful, but getting close to his junkie friend was the hard part. The man was constantly on different kinds of drugs, making him paranoid. 

He didn’t want to do this. Not really. But he wanted to get out of Gotham as fast as possible, and the only way by doing that was clearing this case. He looked at the time on Jaime’s phone; it was about eleven-thirty now. Bart still remembered their routes, they’d walk around town and sell drugs to people and even kids. Right now he should be somewhere near the old red bridge near the old theatre. 

He was walking through the streets, his hands in his pockets and his hood over his head. He didn’t want to look suspicious, nor did he want to look like he owned a damn penny. In fact, he didn’t own a damn penny, but that is besides the case. 

The red bridge looked exactly like how he remembered it. The paint was chipping off, showing its true grey colours. Some parts were even completely rusted. Which made it orangey-red again… _A damn miracle it isn’t demolished yet_ , Bart thought. At this rate it would probably fall apart by itself any day now. 

He looked around, trying to find anyone who looked suspicious. Though he probably was acting that part out just fine by himself. There weren’t many people here, some people who were making a fire in an old trashcan to keep warm or a few others who were strolling around. Most certainly at the wrong side of town.

After a few minutes of walking around Bart sighed. It didn’t seem like Vic Wilbur’s junkie friend would show up today. Even though Bart was so certain he’d find him here. 

“What a waste of time,” he sighed again. Well, at least now he could go visit Jaime at doctor Thompkins’. If he was still there, that is.

> Thompkins’ Clinic  
>  November 11, 12:45 P.M.

“You were right after all, officer Reyes. It’s merely a cold,” doctor Thompkins announced, looking at her folder and browsing through the pages. “Though there is a reason why the symptoms are so prolonged.” She snaps the folder shut and sits back at her desk, waiting till Jaime put his jacket back on.

“Sure it’s not the weather, doc?” Jaime grunted as he put his arms through his jacket’s sleeves and then bowed down to tie his shoelaces together.

“It’s stress, Jaime,” the doctor said curtly. “You need to be careful, stress is a dangerous thing over a coarse of time,” she frowned, clearly concerned.

Jaime sighed, already hearing Bart say ‘ _I told you so_ ’ in his mind. He knew he should take his days off more serious and that he should use those days to _relax_. Not to work more on the case. But he kept running out of time, always another crisis coming up or a new piece of evidence or an entirely new case… He just didn’t have the time to be taking days off.

And something told him that doctor Thompkins knew that as well. Hence her concern. 

Jaime gave her a faint smile, “I’ll try, doc. I promise.” 

Doctor Thompkins gave him a receipt for pills he needed to get from a pharmacy, even though Jaime assured he was feeling much better than first. Trying to argue with that lady was futile though, she’d always win no matter what. Jaime chuckled and took the receipt, trying to read what it said. Keyword was _trying_. 

He walked out of the clinic and was on his way to the pharmacy when his phone went off. He rustled in his pockets, trying to locate the damn thing. He answered the phone how he usually did, thinking it’d be the GCPD headquarters.

 _“Officer Reyes, I hope you haven’t forgotten about our deal,”_ a heavy breathing voice sniggered.

That was when all hell broke loose…

He clenched his fists, feeling like screaming into the phone. “What did you do?” Jaime gritted out. He looked around him, hoping to see that bastard sitting in his car somewhere so he could give him a piece of his mind.

 _“Holding up my end of the bargain, of course,”_ Penguin laughed, as if the answer was so obvious. _“I told you, didn’t I?”_

“Tell me what, you sick—“

 _“I’d rough him up nice,”_ he interrupted. Jaime knew he had to be smirking as he uttered his next line, _“Tsk, tsk, let this be a lesson for you officer Reyes. Next time, I’ll be sure to call mister Allen’s… friends.”_

“Where is he?”

Penguin snorted, amused by Jaime’s reaction. _“Now where’s the fun in that?”_ he laughed. _“Why don’t you come and find him. You need to be quick though, I’m not held accountable for the injuries he gets while being here.”_

The line went dead. 

And so would Penguin when Jaime got his hands on him. He’d make sure _the coño_ would regret laying hands on his friends. Even if that was going to be the last thing he’d ever do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit rusty, but I still hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Feedback is always welcome, especially now. I feel like I need it to get back in the game haha.
> 
> Liked it, hated ir or some gneral tips? Feel free to leave a comment! It's always appreciated! :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been 6 months, I'm so sorry for the long wait. I'm drowning in uni work with only a bit of spare time to even breathe. 
> 
> I'm unbelievably grateful for the people who still want to read this even after all this time and are still excited to see another chapter come up. Thank you all for all the comments and kudos. It's because I know there are still people out there that want to read this that I aim to want to finish this. But more on that in the Chapter Notes at the end!
> 
> For the people who can’t remember what happened up till now and are too lazy to read everything again; I feel ya!!
> 
> Here’s a summary.
> 
> Jaime is a detective in training and Bart’s a con artist. Bart’s on a picture with a suspect named Mary Reed and becomes Jaime’s partner in order to find her. They visit her daughter and find her husband who reveals that he re-sells the drug Lux. 
> 
> Mary’s abducted by Penguin and the two partners go after her. They save her, but Jaime has to make a deal with Penguin that will ensure the safety of both Mary and Bart. Mary then reveals that the guy who she’s buying the drugs from is Vic Wilbur. 
> 
> Bart seems to have demons of his own, his entire family was killed by his grandfather; Eobard Thawne. And this psycho is now after Bart. Jaime decided to help Bart and keep him safe so that the psycho grandad can’t find him.
> 
> Vic Wilbur is nowhere to be found, so Bart thinks of a better idea. Plant a tracking chip on one of Wilbur’s best friends and wait until they meet up again. However, the best friend was nowhere to be found and when Bart was ready to go home after a failed plan, he gets kidnapped by Penguin. 
> 
> All caught up? Good. Let’s continue!

> Unknown Area  
>  November 11, 16:45 P.M.

Bart had been through a lot growing up. Getting kidnapped and hurt was, quite strangely, also a part of that. And all for various reasons. At the beginning it was because of his grandfather trying to murder everyone in his family. Later the reasons became more frivolous and unimportant, but it’s the event that counts.

Every single time he had this… _tradition_ , so to say. Thinking of certain death, letting himself get beat up, and all of that for one particular thing: 

Information.

Like, who did this? _Easy, Penguin._

Why is he doing this? _Apparently Jaime made a deal with the devil and didn’t uphold his end of the bargain._

So, why the hell is Bart here? _Leverage._

And most importantly, what is Penguin planning next? Beside calling over his grandfather to finish what he started, there had to be a reason as to why even Penguin didn’t want Lux roaming in Gotham. It’s not like he cared about its citizens, he’s been on a killing spree _for ages_. Though, of course, it’s bad for sales when all customers die taking a drug that isn’t Penguin approved…

And that was when the obvious had hit Bart.

In the form of a crowbar, but still.

Bart cried out, his stomach churning, cramping and feeling like it was set on fire. Tears started to stream over his cheeks, following the wet trail that had been already there. This had been going on for what felt like hours and with no end in sight. Bart hunched over as far as he could being tied to a chair and spilt the content of his last meal over his knees, his shoes and his assaulter’s slacks and shoes, until it started to pool on the floor. 

The man holding the crowbar groaned. He threw the metal onto the table and then went on to hold his pantlegs up, checking the damage done to it. He sighed and grumbled, uttering unintelligible words until he opened a door and left the room, leaving Bart alone with his pain. 

He sighed, trying to swallow back to choking feeling in his throat. He’d done his part, he got what he wanted.

Now it was time to escape.

He looked around the room again. He couldn’t remember doing that before, maybe it had been beat out of him, or maybe he’d just skipped that part. Now seemed like a good time. He knew he was in a basement _somewhere_. He couldn’t hear anything sounding remotely like waves or sea gulls, nor did he smell the rotten stench of wasted fish, so he wasn’t at the Gotham Docks. He didn’t hear music pounding throughout the walls, nor did he feel small tremors from the speakers, so he wasn’t at the Iceberg Lounge either.

He looked around the room. There was one metal table, on top of it dozens of torture devices on it. Some of them he recognised. Some of them unfamiliar, but he had a feeling he’d get acquainted with them soon. The walls were made out of concrete. Cheap concrete by the look of it, it was littered with cracks and holes. There were rusted metal pipes along the corners of the walls… so maybe a lower level of a factory? 

If that was the case, then he needed to leave _now_. He’d rather not meet the blade of an industrial cutting machine. 

The first step; get rid of the cuffs.

Bart took two deep breaths of air, “Come on, you can do it,” he whispered to himself. He put both of his thumbs in his fists, squeezed his eyes shut and whispered a quick prayer to whoever would listen to him. In one quick act he moved both of his fists downwards while keeping them straight, dislocating both of his thumbs. He groaned, trying his best to keep his mouth shut. His brows furrowed, he moved his foot up and down trying to do something to make him think less of the pain. He took another few deep breaths, though these were a lot faster, and started to squirm out of the cuffs. 

It fell to the ground, the sound of it echoing throughout the room. “Fu-aahh,” he groaned, reminding himself to breathe. “Now… for the worst part…” He focused on his right hand first. Moving the thumb up, then down before he pulled with his left index and middle finger, sliding it back in place. “Gr-hnn, oh God… why…” he murmured, doing the same thing with his left thumb. He gave himself a minute to blink away his hazy vision and try to calm his beating heart. 

Now it all came to step two.

Getting out of the chair.

> GCPD HQ  
>  November 11, 12:54 P.M.

Jaime was panting, almost heaving, as he ran to headquarters. Running into as many side alleys as he could to get there even faster. He didn’t know what Penguin was doing to Bart, if Bart was going to get through this scar-free at all, but one thing he was certain of; he needed to find him and he knew just the person to help him with that.

He ran into the GCPD, slid across the floor in his hurry and nearly face planted onto Perez’s desk, throwing all his files on the floor in the meantime. He shrugged it off mentally and ran towards Murphy’s desk, slamming both his hands on the wooden table. 

“I guess you found out then?” Murphy hummed, not liking where this is going.

Now, if there was anything that irked him more than that comment it would be the fact that Murphy didn’t do anything to stop it from happening. “I found out,” he started, raising his voice from a hushed whisper, “that el jefe pingüino has abducted Bart to god knows where!”

It would have been comical to see Murphy’s eyes widen that much on any other day. His clothes were at least three days old, with all kinds of stains on them. And his desk wasn’t looking that much better. But since the situation was dire, Jaime only wanted to punch this old man for putting his partner in danger.

Murphy let out a sigh, putting his head in both his hands. “I did tell the kid it was dangerous,” he solemnly commented as he shook his head, taking a deep breath before he turned back to Jaime. “But that was about finding our suspect, Wilbur. He didn’t do anything to provoke Penguin.”

That’s where the guilty look crossed over to Jaime’s face. He shouldn’t have made a deal with Penguin and he knew it. He hadn’t even thought about it since then, so much time had passed. But if Bart was getting hurt because of him, because of them, then he needed to fix it. 

“Remember when I said I got into trouble with Penguin?”

“Of course I do. I’d help you get him off your back once the case is closed,” Murphy answered, squinting his eyes and preparing himself for the bad news.

“I was supposed to keep him up to date with the entire case, but then everything got so busy, and the thing with Bart, and I got sick, and all of it just happened! And I didn’t give him what he wanted, so he took him!”

Murphy slid his chair back making countless of files and empty junk food cartons fall over, he stood up and firmly put his hands on Jaime’s shoulder. “Breathe, brother. You’re not going to find him by panicking.” 

It was weird hearing his voice like that. Clear, articulated and authoritative. It was unlike the easy-going and usually joking friend he’d made on his first day here. And that made him feel worse. It made Jaime want to wave his arms in the air and slap everyone within a two metre vicinity. 

“Then _how_ will we find him?” he exasperated. 

Murphy smirked as he grabbed his belt, gun, badge and coat before he said, “Follow me and you’ll find out.”

> The Black Den  
>  November 11, 13:39 P.M.

From the outside it was a simple abandoned company building, from the inside though… it looked like an actual self-built safe haven for anyone in Gotham who needed it. This place looked like it served as a home for people who didn’t have one. Part of Jaime felt a pang in his heart knowing that all the people here didn’t have anywhere else they could go.

But that wasn’t all. This place was a black market, a place to deal all kinds of goods. Or rather, bads. From information to illegal weapons and drugs, anything could be sold here. 

And according to Murphy, this was the place Bart must have visited before he went out. 

Jaime looked at the crumbling building. Everywhere were people, some sleeping with blankets and some only covered with newspapers. Everything looked grey and worse for wear. There were a few food stalls, a small red and torn picnic blanket was covered over the table. Even that tablecloth looked like it had seen better days. 

Jaime crossed his arms, having no clue where to even start. “How do you know Bart was here? You said he didn’t tell you anything about his plan.”

“He talked about finding Wilbur’s location. But he’s not dumb, following Wilbur is dangerous. That is if he can even find him. So, he thought of a better plan,” Murphy explained. 

“Which is?” 

“Find a friend of Wilbur and follow him until they lead Bart to Vic. Sound familiar?”

It did. It was the exact same thing they did with trying to find Mary Reed. They looked up her daughter, then found her father which lead them to find her. It’s an easy tactic that usually always works out. 

But something still irked him, there were pieces that didn’t click. “If that’s the case, why did he come here?” A crackhouse would have been a better place to find any of Wilbur’s friends…

Murphy smirked, he pointed his head towards a redheaded young man somewhere in the corner of the building. It was one of the places where the windows were painted completely black, barely no light was able to get through, only vague hues were visible about the mystery person. 

Murphy walked over to the young man first, speaking in hushed tones. At first the redhead didn’t seem like he was going to say anything, but something in his expression changed. The young man took a step back, his eyes growing wide as he slightly raised his arms. Then his gestures grew wild, something that looked like panic, or maybe anger. It was too dark to see and surprisingly enough, neither of their voices rose loud enough to be heard. 

He saw the eyes of the young man finally settling on him and took it as his cue to step in. 

From up-close the young man didn’t look much older than him, he had maybe five years on Jaime. But he still looked strong and rugged,—a huge contrast from Bart who was more on the lithe side—probably from the Gotham streets if he was from around here. Which, now that Jaime thought about it, didn’t look like it was the case. Something about his appearance and the way he carried himself didn’t match with the locals from Gotham. The man had the anger part down, but certainly not the caution, otherwise he would have looked far more suspicious of two cops strolling in. 

“You saw Bart last?” 

The redhead crossed his arms, a frown evident on his features. “Pretty sure that staggering bastard saw him last, but I’m a close second,” the young man sneered, turning his body to Murphy. 

“Roy, play nice. That’s Bart’s partner, officer Reyes,” Murphy threw in. “Now, did the kid get anything from you? He never leaves without goodies.”

Roy sighed, one hand moving up to rub at his neck. “I gave him a tracker and the software for it… He might’ve downloaded that on a computer. That’s your best bet, I’ve got nothing else,” he glowered. 

Jaime did remember Bart on his laptop plenty of times. It was possible that the program was already on there. Which meant… “there’s a chance Bart never planted the chip,” he mumbled. “We can find him, ese!”

> Unknown Area  
> November 11, 17:02 P.M.

It took a few tries getting out of the chair. He was completely bound to it, his ankles, thighs, waist and arms were all stuck. At the beginning he couldn’t even bend forward so he could stand up, but that was more because of the pain in his stomach. Bart eventually did manage to find his balance long enough to stand up and move the chair backwards, torpedoing it into the wall and breaking the back two chair legs.

That, of course, ended up with him awkwardly and inevitably falling to the side and falling on his back on the ground, breaking the entire chair into three pieces. 

For a few moments the world seemed to spin, even sounds became muzzled for a while. In the most vulgar parts of Bart’s brain it reminded him of the aftereffects of an orgasm; everything becoming blurred and sounds becoming a vague obstruct thing. Minus the feeling good part, his stomach was lurching and his head was throbbing. Yeah, no. This wasn’t like an orgasm _at all._

But that’s all beside the point.

He needed to get the hell out of here. 

There were a few ways to go about this. He could stand up and undoubtedly pass out, or he could crawl over to where the crow bar was and at least have something to defend himself with. 

Option b) was far more attractive than passing out, so that was the first thing he did. He wiggled himself out of the rope that was bound around his waist. It took a bit longer to get the duct tape off of… everywhere really. He just needed to not be tied to broken parts of a chair, that’d be awesome.

He then crawled over to the metal table, raising one of his hands to feel around for a crowbar. Several tools fell down with a hard _'clunk'_ and Bart could feel the cold sweat dripping from his back. If the goons had heard him breaking the chair, they definitely must have heard this too. 

And he was right. He could hear arguing voices echoing throughout the building, slowly coming closer to the door. Bart dragged himself to the side of the door and took a hold of the leaking and rusting pipes there, painstakingly pulling himself up even though he knew he shouldn’t. Once he felt like he wouldn’t topple over he let go of the pipe and held the crowbar with his both hands. The voiced were finally behind the door.

This time Bart wouldn’t take the hits.

This time he’d fight back.

> Jaime’s Apartment  
>  November 11, 14:27 P.M.

Jaime slammed his door open and ran inside, immediately trying to look for his laptop. He first walked over to his room looking on his unmade bed for his laptop, but he couldn’t find anything. He then ran towards the living room, throwing the pillows behind him and nearly hitting Murphy in the face as he just walked into the living room.

He patted down the coffee table and looked on the ground and under the sofa, but found nothing. He strode to the kitchen table, seeing nothing there either until he finally spotted it on the kitchen counter. He grabbed his laptop and put it on the table, quickly pressing the power button. 

“Take it easy, brother, we’re not gonna find him if you accidently destroy your laptop,” Murphy said, standing beside Jaime. 

But Jaime didn’t listen. Didn’t care to, to be honest. He just wanted the laptop to go on and _why wasn’t it going on?_ He ran back to his room, opened the drawers of his nightstand and looked inside for his charger. He didn’t find it there, but what he did find was Bart’s phone. It had been shut off since the day Bart saw those eight people get killed in the back alleys... Jaime took a deep breath and turned it on, noticing that the phone started to install an update he threw away the device onto the bed and searched further for his charger.

He eventually found it discarded under his bed, grabbed it and ran back to his laptop plugging everything in and finally turned it on. 

“Bueno, now what are we even looking for?” Jaime asked, not knowing where the hell to start.

Murphy sighed, “Aren’t you supposed to be the generation to know all about computer stuff?” He pushed Jaime out of the way. “You go to menu, type in ‘control panel’ in the search bar and then you get this screen,” he explained. On it were about eight different pictograms. “You pick the one that says ‘Programs’ and now you’ve got an overview of everything that’s been downloaded on your computer. You search by date _and…_.” He turned the laptop around and showed Jaime the latest thing that was downloaded. 

He had no idea what it was since it was all weird numbers and letters, but once he clicked on it he saw a map of Gotham and a bar with _‘Now Loading. Remaining time: 00:01:15:39.’_

 _“Estas bromeando,”_ Jaime groaned. He sat defeated at his dinner table and threw his head into his hands, roughly scrubbing them along his scalp. “This is all my fault… I shouldn’t have asked for Bart’s help on the case.”

He felt a hand on his shoulder, a thing he was starting to get really familiar with that Murphy always did for troubled cops. “One way or another, he would’ve helped with the case. That’s just the kind of guy he is, Jaime.”

Jaime shook his head, choosing not to say another word. He simply was done talking, he knew there was nothing he could do until that load bar finished. 

And so they waited a full hour and fifteen minutes in complete silence until finally an address popped up. 

“It’s on the outskirts of Gotham, about an hour from here,” Murphy spoke.

Jaime frowned. Another godforsaken hour until they found him… “Then what are we waiting for? We’ll take my car.” 

As they left, unbeknownst to them, a phone started to ring. Once the door closed, the ringtone started echoing throughout the living room. The Jaws theme sounding more menacing and horrid as the seconds ticked by. Until it stopped. And one missed message appeared on the screen.

_From: E. Thawne_  
_‘No more running, kiddo.’_

> Ronfe Factory  
>  November 11, 16:55 P.M.

They both slammed the car door shut and eyed the factory. Jaime briefly wondered why everything in Gotham seemed to crumble, but quickly banned it from of his mind. They had parked close to one of the back entrances. Jaime made his way to it when Murphy grabbed his arm.

“I’ll have your six, but let’s make it quick okay? In, out, no snooping around. We don’t want more trouble than we already have.”

He wanted to disagree. Wanted to throw all of these people into jail and look Penguin in the eye whilst doing it. He wanted to find a way to make sure they couldn’t ever leave, no matter how much money the crime lord had… But the older man was right. They had enough trouble and worry on their plate, they needed to get this over with. 

As they walked in they heard distant voices moaning about something. They hid behind shelves as he saw two men walk straight past them and upstairs into an office. He didn’t know how much time they had, so his best bet was running in the way they came from. 

They jogged into the hallway they came from and started to check every room within that place until they stumbled upon a stairway at the end of the hall. Downstairs there were a few more rooms.

“I’ll take these three, you check the other hallway. He’s gotta be here somewhere,” Jaime said, quickly opening the rooms and making a quick scan of everything. 

After a while he heard Murphy from the other hallway say, “I can’t open this door, see if you can do it.” It took some pushing and playing with the handle, but the door eventually did budge, but there was nothing but boxes inside. 

“Nothing here, keep looking,” Jaime gruffly replied, shaking his head as he walked back to his own hallway. There was still one more room to go. 

He sighed, mentally giving up, and opened the handle of the steel door. He took one step in and immediately in the corner of his eye saw something coming for him. He ducked away, taking a step forward and turning around, making a grab for his gun.

“Freeze, GCPD!” he yelled. Only then did he see who the hell almost attacked him. “…Bart?” He lowered his gun instantly. Bart, who was holding a crowbar, dropped the weapon and threw himself into Jaime’s arms, his breathing going wild as he started jumbling up his words. He couldn’t deny the fact that he could feel his own heart pick up speed because of the adrenaline, or maybe it was from seeing Bart in such a haggard state. “It’s okay, _te tengo_ … I have you,” he said, holding him close to him.

Murphy strode in, his gun raised and sighed looking relieved when he saw the two of them. He simply nodded to the way he came from, a silent gesture for wanting to get the hell out of here. Jaime nodded, achingly listening to Bart’s sobs and quivers. He knew he was going to have to bring Bart to a hospital as fast as possible. There’d be no way they were returning home after this. 

Jaime pulled one of Bart’s arms over his shoulder and held his waist, then he nodded at Murphy. It was time for them to go.

He prayed to whichever God was willing to listen at that point that those guys weren’t returning soon. He wanted to get out of here with no trouble, he’d had enough of that for one day.

As they got to the stairs Murphy shook his head as he looked at Bart who was on the verge of passing out or throwing up. Jaime let go of his waist and immediately Bart’s knees buckled, making him nearly fall. Both Murphy and Jaime held him for a second until one of Jaime’s arms moved underneath Bart’s thighs and swept him up.

It shocked him at how easy it was, he had hoped during the time at Jaime’s house he would’ve gotten a bit heavier. …Or maybe he had and was even lighter before this.

Murphy walked up the stairs and looked into the hallway, when he saw nothing he walked towards the very end and stared at the stairs that led up to the office. He still heard voices coming from there, so the two people had stayed put. He quickly gave Jaime the signal that it was safe and Jaime made a quick jog for it until they were back to the shelves where they had first hidden.

After deeming it safe enough they used the same entrance and jogged over to the car. Murphy sat in the back, holding Bart as Jaime gently tried to get him in. 

Finally he got in himself and wasted no time on revving up the engine and speeding off to the nearest hospital.

> Area Unknown  
>  Date Unknown, Time Unknown

Bart woke up with the worst headache. His head throbbed and his throat ached. His stomach stung and for some reason his limbs felt heavy. He opened his eyes and knew immediately that that was the wrong choice to make. He groaned and tried to lift his arms to cover his face, but everything felt like a cement block.

It felt like he was about to be thrown into Gotham Harbour, inevitably sinking to the bottom and drowning there. He could guess where he was though, just by the ceiling tiles and the antiseptic smell and the thin sheets. Scratch that, he knew _exactly_ where he was. Also because of the annoying beeping which he guessed was a heart rate monitor, but details eh?

He couldn’t see it though, his eyes were glazed over. Everything looked so hazy… Like a video on 144p. That’s the best way he could describe it really.

He felt something warm on his arm, _a hand_. Someone was with him… Was it Jaime? He’d found him. Even Bart had no idea where the hell he was, but still he managed to find him. Just the fact that Jaime came to look for him, that he didn’t leave Bart to die… He felt his own heart beating just a tad faster at that thought. Could hear it too. 

The hand moved up to his shoulder, his neck and then his face. Was it really Jaime?

But what he heard wasn’t Jaime’s voice. Not even close. What he heard made his blood run cold and his heart rate pick up alarmingly. He knew this voice.

“Done running, kiddo?”

He’d been running from it for eleven years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have officially written up everything about the plot. I haven't written down the story though, which means that frequent uploads are not going to happen. I'm very sorry about that. 
> 
> But if you did like it so far, then leave a comment. I’m in dire need of some feedback and/or constructive criticism. You can also come talk to me on my Tumblr! 
> 
> oras1.tumblr.com  
> awildorasappeared.tumblr.com
> 
> Thank you again for everyone who left kudos and comments, it's because of you guys that I want to finish this story no matter how hectic my life gets. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hated it, loved it, or some general tips? Everything is welcome!


End file.
